Chapter 18

Miles crouched behind a dense bush; the bolas clutched in his hands so tight he was sure the wooden chain would leave an indent in his palm. Across the way, Peyral also hid behind a dense sea of bushes, her club thrown over her shoulder. She glanced at him and placed a finger to her lips. They were slowly starting to get along, Miles thought that she could tell that he cared about S'rrona very much, and anyone who cared about S'rrona seemed to be alright in her book. Although, he did still catch the occasional side eye and how she also seemed a little standoffish around him, but they did have a conversation, they did seem to be at least cordial.

Miles focused back on the clearing before him. Afternoon was coming to an end, and he hadn't caught a single thing since…forever. He was starting to believe he was not cut out for this kind of work. He could a be guard or one of those explorers still out at sea, but waiting in the bushes in hopes a stupid animal would stroll by was crazy to him. He took a deep breath and the sound made Peyral snapping her head in his direction, giving him a biting stare. Miles put his hand up in an apology and Peyral slowly looked away from him.

Silence danced around them and even though it felt like summer was coming to an end, the bugs didn't seem to get that message. Miles was annoyed when he found out that Pandora had mosquitoes and when he complained about it to S'rrona, she gave him a small jar filled with white paste. He lathered himself with it after a bath and the itchiness would go away.

Peyral glanced around, even she was getting annoyed again. When she made eye contact with Miles, she nodded once, beginning to stand. Miles followed her lead and stood. Deep in the trees on the other side of the clearing, he heard soft movements. Peyral motioned for Miles to get back down and when they looked around the bushes, Miles was surprised to see two deer-like creatures come out. A mother and her fawn.

"Peyral," Miles mouthed. "Peyral!"

But she didn't pay attention to him, her eyes were still focused on the creatures in the clearing. Miles didn't know what to do, did he get up and throw the bolas and hope for the best? Did he wait?

"Peyral!" Miles finally whispered and she looked at him. The deer didn't seem to notice his voice above the soft breeze in the trees, but Miles wasn't going to risk it any further; he went back to mouthing. "What do I do?" Peyral's eyes glanced at the bolas then back at Miles' face. "No," Miles shook his head. "I can't do that; I don't know what Im doing!" In defiance, Peyral put her club on the ground and put her hands up. "Really?" She closed her eyes and looked away.

Asshole. Fine, Miles could do it. He had shot guns before, fought Na'vi in the forest, in the water, on a ship, in the air—he wasn't new to this, he was true to this. What is throwing a bola at two damn deer in comparison to going fisticuffs with Jake Sully? Nothing. And he got out of that situation unscathed, for the most part.

Granted, Spider was there to help him, but he was still alive and that was what mattered.

Miles took a breath, remembering what Peyral taught him: Always aim for the knees or below, that way it would tangle around the target. Miles quietly crept out of the bushes, keeping low to the ground, and aiming for tall vegetation. He would stick out like a sore thumb in this environment.

Getting the baby deer-thing would have been an easy target; it was small, it was fragile, it was new to the world, but it wouldn't feed a whole tribe and knowing how S'rrona felt about children...Miles couldn't do it. As Miles crept further and further out into the view, neither one of those creatures looked at him, instead, they grazed on the dying green grass, their tails swishing in the gentle breeze.

Miles glanced at Peyral who nodded to him again, and while her face was stoic and blank, he could have sworn there was a hint of pride behind those green eyes.

He continued to move, and he would have continued to move until he was almost directly upon those deer-things if it hadn't been for the deafening crack below him. It was loud because everything else was so quiet, Miles glanced down to see his foot on top of a small branch. He groaned in annoyance and didn't need to look behind him to see Peyral rubbing her forehead. The deer froze in place, the mother looking around for the danger until she landed her eyes on Miles.

He stared at her. She stared at him. Miles moved forward, just a step, and the deer-things rose on their back legs and pivoted around. Something hot and dark flashed in Mile's chest and took off behind them!

"MilesQuaritch!" Peyral yelled.

Miles kept running. The deer-things were almost to the dense trees and if they got there, he would lose his chance. He couldn't return home empty handed anymore. With a single toss, the bolas cut through the air.

It was the sound that got his attention first, the painfully sad yelp of the baby deer-thing, but it was watching the felling of the mother that did something to Miles. Almost cooling the sudden hot spoke in his chest. The bolas wrapped itself around the deer-thing's legs, bringing them together and stopping her in her tracks.

The baby deer-thing turned back, sniffed his mother as if it could help her.

"Hey!" Miles yelled, waving his hands. The baby deer-thing froze and stared at him, giving him those huge Bambi eyes. Miles stomped on the ground as he approached and with every step, the little deer-thing backed away a little. "Get out of here! Go! Move, or I'll eat you!" The baby deer-thing gave one last glance at his mother before skuttling away. Miles went over to the mother and the look she gave him could kill. She was so sad. "I'm sorry," he rubbed her head. "I'm so sorry."

"MilesQuaritch!" Peyral came running up to him. "MilesQuaritch! Are you all right?" Was she really asking him this? Miles stared at Peyral, expecting her to be mad, maybe he was supposed to kill the baby deer-thing and he made a mistake, but she stood before him on the other side of the deer-thing and her eyes danced with concern. Not because he did something wrong, but because…she didn't know how this would affect him. Miles told her he wasn't a hunter back from The Before Times. When Miles didn't answer right away, she prompted. "Are you all right?"

Miles took a breath and nodded. "yeah, yeah…I'm fine." He stood back from the deer-thing. "I got one."

"I see," Peyral kneeled by the mother.

Miles watched in odd fascination as the Na'vi woman seemingly preyed over the creature. The sight of such made him feel heavy inside, pain formed behind his eyes, and he had to blink several times to keep the tears away. He had no idea why this affected him so. Peyral took a knife from under her loin cloth and dragged it across the thick neck of the deer-thing. Miles looked away but he could hear the splash on the grass. After a while, silence came, almost eerie and mournful.

"Help me carry this," Peyral said softly. Miles turned back to the deer-thing. It was dead. "Come, you grab the legs, and I will grab the head."

Miles quickly did what Peyral instructed, and they carried the creature through the dense tree, down the small hill, and over the rock footpath. Miles could have sworn he felt eyes watching his every move in the shadows of the trees and the darkness of the encroaching night, but he didn't feel uneasy and unsure. He felt…safe.

-later that night-

S'rrona found Miles on his porch during dinner. He didn't join them; he wasn't hungry. Instead, Miles found himself in a tornado of thought, one of which being much louder than the rest: Was I wrong? He didn't notice S'rrona until the torchlight by his steps alit her body. In her large hands was a bowl of soup.

"I made sure that no meat got into the bowl," She said brightly. Miles didn't bother looking at her and that must have irritated her because she stepped into his line of sight. "Let me try this again," she held the bowl out in front of her. "I made sure no meat got into the bowl."

Miles took the bowl from her and, she was right, after carefully swishing the bowl around, no meat was in it. S'rrona watched him carefully, those yellow eyes that shone as bright as stars in the night sky, focused on him. When Miles didn't place the bowl to his lips, the smile on her face fell. She placed her fists on her hips. "Eat, MilesQuaritch."

"Im not hungry, S'rrona."

She hissed in annoyance. "You eat all the time; you never stop, but you do not eat now?" She snapped. "Eat. Build strength. Celebrate your first kill!"

Miles snorted in annoyance. "Im strong."

S'rrona snorted too and looked away. "Yeah right. You needed help carrying that animal back."

"That's because it was huge and Peyral asked me to help her," Miles said a little loudly, the people walking past glanced at them but continued to walk faster.

S'rrona chuckled at their reaction before turning to look at Miles again. "You're not hungry? Fine, do not eat," instead, she sat next to him, almost moving him out of the way to make room. She stared out at the empty pathway. The sounds of laughter and singing from the dinner could be heard and S'rrona tapped her foot in rhythm.

Miles sighed. "Why are you sitting next to me, S'rrona? Go eat."

She shook her head, the short cut she bore when they first met was now turning into a small puff. That was how long they had known each other, for her almost bald head to be a small puff, and he felt like he had known her all his life.

"I'm not hungry," S'rrona said.

"You're lying," Miles said bluntly.

S'rrona glanced at him, her hands under her chin. "I am not. You are not hungry, and I am not hungry," she shrugged. "Why are you sitting alone?"

"Well, I was sitting along," and with the emphasis of "was", S'rrona gave him the middle finger. She was picking up on a lot of his mannerisms and it was a bit amusing for Miles to see how he rubbed off on her. He wondered how she rubbed off on him. He stifled a chuckle as he continued. "I, uh, I just wanted to come out here and think. I can't think when there is so much noise around me."

S'rrona nodded. "I understand."

They were quiet, letting the warm presence of each other be the only noise between them. Miles glanced down at one point and noticed what he would consider to be legwarmers on S'rrona's ankles. They looked to be made of thick leaves and wool and then he noticed her cloak, it was that ruddy red one with tattered ends, the one she always wore when she went out. It was old.

"Where are you going?"

"What?"

"Where are you going?" His Na'vi was almost fluent at this point, even if he would stammer over his words or look for another word that would fit the sentence.

"Nowhere," S'rrona said quickly. Miles stared at her, taking in her long, slender neck, the way it morphed into her shoulders. She must have thought he was staring because he didn't believe her, because she said, "fine. I'm going for a run."

"This late? Its dark."

"So?"

"Peyral is going to kill you."

S'rrona shrugged. "Have I ever listened to Peyral?" She then added. "I mean, I have listened to Peyral, but I don't listen to her all the time."

Miles chuckled. "Okay."

S'rrona smiled slightly. "Come with me."

"Why?"

"Just come with me, MilesQuaritch. You ask too many questions and don't do enough."

And even though he said it with a friendly smile, he was serious when he said, "I think I have the right to know where I am going." S'rrona huffed, placing her hands on her hips, and looking around. Her tail snapped the air behind her, and the action almost made Miles laugh. Instead, Miles stood and dusted his pants off. "Okay, I'll go. Lead the way, ma'am."

-an hour or so later-

After a bit of a walk through the dimly lit forest and short climb up a small hill, Miles stood next to S'rrona in a clearing. They were there alone, the only sound being the angry crashing waves against the rocky outline of the island. S'rrona told him it was the island's natural protective barrier, acting as filter.

"What are we doing here?" Miles asked. S'rrona put a still hand on his shoulder, then stepped forward. She brought her hand to her mouth and whistled, long and high. When she was done, she stood still looking around in the dark trees. "S'rrona?"

"Hush, you will scare him," she said with a hint of a smile.

"Scare who?" Miles asked. Faint rustling resonated in the trees, light at first but as it lasted, the louder it got. Grunts and snorts followed, and Miles took a step back, his ears on high alert. "S'rrona…" but she said nothing, she did not do anything but stand there, her tail swishing back and forth in rapid motion. The sounds grew louder, followed by what could be thought of as stomping feet on damp soil. "S'rrona."

"Wait."

"What do you mean 'wait?'! It sounds like a herd of elephants coming for us."

S'rrona glanced at him in annoyance. Slowly, she raised both her hands in front of her and as the beast he had seen many months before burst through the vegetation, barreling straight for her, Miles took off.

He took off for S'rrona.

In two strides he was upon her, yanking her by the waist and pulling her down. They both hit the soft grass with a heavy thump. S'rrona gasped and Miles didn't know if that was out of shock or because of the impact. The beast stopped in front of them, his yellow eyes glaring daggers into Miles' body. S'rrona shoved Miles off her and scrambled to her feet.

The beast reared up and charged for Miles. Miles scrambled to his feet, and snarled at the beast, dipping low and getting to his fighting stance. The beast, the one with the concaved face and the claws, let out an explosive screech. It reverberated off the trees, grazed the bushes. It charged for Miles again and Miles snarled again.

"No!" S'rrona screamed. She jumped in front of Miles, her arms up. "No! Stop!" Miles and the beast danced around her, whenever he went in one direction, the beast would follow. It screeched, sounding almost like a hawk. Miles hissed. "Stop! Both of you!"

"Move, S'rrona!" Miles commanded. "You'll get hurt!"

S'rrona turned to face him, her eyes wide but so very serious. "MilesQuaritch, stop taunting him."

"It tried to kill you!"

"No, he did not!"

The beast reared up and stomped on the ground. S'rrona spun around, placing her hands up. "Zaka! Zaka!" She said something in Na'vi that Miles couldn't understand, but the best didn't look at her. He was focused solely on Miles. "Zaka!" S'rrona said, her voice as hard as stone. "You hear me talking to you!"

S'rrona nearly slammed her hand onto the beast's forehead and almost at once, he stopped this back-and-forth dancing. Miles watched, panting, as the beast and S'rrona seemed to share a conversation with just their close touch. S'rrona whispered to the creature, rubbing its neck. After some minutes, the beast chirped, shook his head, and turned away from them. S'rrona turned to face Miles, the look on her face one that could cut glass, her mouth was pinched, her nose scrunched.

"What happened?"

"You happened!"

Miles opened his mouth to say something, but just sighed. "Listen, I thought it was going to hurt you. It was heading right for you."

"That is because I called him!" S'rrona snapped. "You cannot be that foolish!"

Miles folded his arms and bit his lip. "I'm sorry, but I don't even know what the hell that is!" He looked at the beast. "What the hell is it?"

"It's an Eagleon, and his name is Zaka. He's only ten years old."

"What is he, some kind of pet?" When she narrowed her eyes in confusion, Miles corrected. "Companion."

"He is my companion," S'rrona rubbed her temples. "You have an ikran, I have an Eagleon, and they are very gentle creatures."

Miles let out a noise of doubt, which made S'rrona fold her own arms in the same fashion as he. "I don't believe that" he said. "That was the same kind of beast I saw on the beach my first couple of days here." Miles snorted. "It probably wanted to eat me."

For a moment, S'rrona's eyes widened with some sort of realization. But just as quickly as they widened, they went back to their normal shape. She sighed in frustration and dropped her arms. "fine," she said quietly. "it is all fine."

She spun on her heels and went to the beast. Miles watched as she climbed on the creature with ease. She attached her queue to the long braid hidden behind the thick dark mane of the beast. It was like a hybrid, with the body of a horse, the feet and tail of a lion and the face of a hawk. It was terrifying. The creature eyed Miles sharply as he approached.

"Where are you going?" S'rrona adjusted herself on Zaka's back, whispering things under her breath that he couldn't hear. "S'rrona!" S'rrona snapped her head in his direction. "Where are you going?"

"I told you, for a run."

"I thought you were physically running."

"That was your mistake," She gripped Zaka's mane and squeezed his sides. Slowly, he trotted around the clearing, circling Miles.

"Listen," he began. "I'm sorry tackled you to the ground; I thought you were in danger."

"Zaka is good," S'rrona said sternly. "He is loyal to me and to my clan. The Eagleon have a long-standing relationship with the Lefpom people. They represent peace and beauty."

"Beauty is pushing it," S'rrona gave him a dirty look and Miles cleared his throat. She looked beautiful sitting so high above him. The way the moon highlighted the soft planes of her face and body, giving her an almost ethereal glow. Miles was happy that it was dark, so she would not see him blushing. "Sorry."

Zaka came to a stop. S'rrona stared down at Miles. "You are very blessed by The Great Mother that I like you," She said sternly, but there was a hint of a smile ghosting her lips. Miles smiled up at her and went toward Zaka. She watched him with strange intensity as Miles fixed her leg warmer, his fingers lightly grazing over her ankle and calf has he pulled it down in the right place.

"I have my charms."

She rolled her eyes. "Come."

"Come where?"

"With me and Zaka," she gestured around them. "It is the best time to go running."

Miles stared at the beast, who stared back at him. "No, thank you."

"Do you not trust me?"

"I don't trust him," Miles pointed at Zaka.

"He said he doesn't care and that the feeling is mutual," S'rrona translated.

Miles gave Zaka the middle finger before shifting his attention back to S'rrona. "I'm not getting on him," Miles shook his head. Miles could have sworn, just for a quick second, that S'rrona pouted a little. But just as the look came, it went, being replaced with the usual smile she always held.

"It will be fun," She coaxed. "A lot of fun."

"I don't care," Miles said. "He scares me."

"Zaka is very nice," S'rrona admitted. "And we will go slow. Just a slow trot through the forest." She stuck her hand out for him, just as she did in the village. Under the moonlight, he saw the extra layering of skin she had to thicken her palms. Her fingers, like the fingers of most of the Lefpom People, beheld nails that came to a sharp point, kind of like claws, but from this angle, Miles could see that they were actually like cat claws, thick and solid, rounded. This explained why he never saw them clip their nails, only file them to a certain point. There were probably a lot of nerve endings in there. "You said you trusted me. So, trust me; I will never stir you wrong."

Miles believed her wholeheartedly.

-a few minutes later-

Miles screamed so loud that the forest answered his cries for help with his own scream. Wind whipped past him. He wrapped his arms around S'rrona's thin waist so tight that if he wasn't scared for his life, he would be worried he would snap her in half. Tangling with his cries for mercy and for them to slow down was the thrilled snorts of Zaka and the yipping and hooting of S'rrona. She trilled, the forest throwing her voice back at her like it was a boomerang. Miles peered over S'rrona's shoulder to see nothing by crashing darkness with flurries of light. Thunderous hooves beat against the ground, breaking throw branches and vines. They stormed down a steep hill like lightning.

Wind blasted down Miles' lungs and he coughed hard.

"Breathe, MilesQuaritch!"

"I'm trying to, dammit!" Miles snapped. He watched as S'rrona took one hand off the reins and throw her arm in the air. Seconds later, she did the same thing with the other arm and Miles realized it was just the strength of her legs holding them on that wild beast's back. He could have sworn that with every scream he let out, Zaka went faster and faster. He was doing this on purpose. "Put your hands back on the reins, S'rrona!"

But she didn't listen. Zaka cut a corner and Miles flew with the curve. His legs slipped from around Zaka's body and his grip on S'rrona made her get yanked back as well. He had nothing to grab on to, nothing to hold and so as he was heading toward the speeding ground, he closed his eyes, readying for the impact of being dragged down the hill. Quickly, a strong hand slammed against his upper back. Miles looked up to see S'rrona holding him tightly against her, an arm thrown around her to keep him steady. Her other hand was holding on to the reins.

The hill started to level out and while Zaka still sped, Miles was able to straighten on the beast. He rewrapped his arms around her waist, but she never let go of him, protectively making sure he did not fall again.

Zaka finally slowed to a brisk trot as they weaved through tall standing trees. Hanging fruits, though spare in numbers, dotted each tree like hanging stars and as they trotted out of the forest, he watched as S'rrona reached up and grab three. As they emerged from the forest, Miles was stunned to awed silence at the sight before him. A waterfall, larger than any mountain he had seen on Earth, or that he hadn't seen on Earth…

Bigger than mountains on Earth stood in regal majesty before them.

Zaka splashed through the water as they entered the rounded lake that formed from the falls. Not directly under the falling water, but close enough, were dozens of Eagleon, shimmering in shades of reds and grays and browns and blacks. They watched as they approached, but Miles could tell their eyes lingered on him the longest. Water grazed the bottom of his feet, inching up his legs the further they went.

"Stop," S'rrona said gently and like a soldier, Zaka stopped on command. S'rrona slid from Zaka, disappearing under the water just briefly. When she came up, she wiped the water from her face and detached her queue from Zaka's. The creature chirped, splashing its large stomping feet. Miles joined S'rrona in the water and they both watched as Zaka galloped to the others of his kind. They splashed around each other in a friendly greeting.

"Don't go near waterfalls to swim," S'rrona warned.

Miles nodded. "I know; the water is aerated."

She didn't say anything, but he took her disappearing under the water as confirmation. The ripples in the surface sparkled like it did in the stream back home. Minutes passed and he started to feel his heart race when she didn't come back to the surface. He walked around, making his way to the shore when something tight grabbed his leg and pulled him under. Miles didn't have time to yelp in shock when water burrowed down his throat.

He opened his eyes, seeing fish of different glowing colors swim past him. Floating above him, only inches away, was S'rrona. She grinned at him, bubbles coming from her nose every once and a while. She waved at him and swam to the surface. Miles followed and gagged when he reached the air.

"Why the hell did you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Don't play with me—" But when he turned to look at her, he found she was stepping on to the shore. Miles ran after her, crashing through the hip deep water until he met rocky ground. S'rrona lay on the grassy part of the shore, staring at the sky. "You good?"

"I am fine."

Miles sat next to her. "This place is beautiful."

She nodded. "My parents use to take us out here a lot."

"Us?"

"Vrrtep, Peyral, me and a few other young ones in the village," she said and there was something hollow in her voice. "One by one, they dropped off and now it is just a hide away for me. Something Vrrtep or Peyral would join me, but…the village takes up most of our time."

"Thus is the life of a ruler."

S'rrona scoffed a laughed. "Sometimes I wish I wasn't Tsahik," she must have mistaken Miles' listening silence for judgement because she quickly clarified. "I mean, I like being Tsahik. I love my home, I love my people, I like Eywa…"

"But?"

There was a pause. "I am so tired." And she actually did sound tired. "I'm tired of praying and no one listening. I am tired of communing and nothing happening. I'm tired of looking at people and giving them false hope because I am not brave enough to say 'I don't know.'" She wasn't crying, there wasn't even a swell of emotions bubbling up from her. No, S'rrona said it so monotonal that it felt real. She was being completely honest.

"Well, if it is any consolation, I think you are doing a stand-up job."

S'rrona looked at him, her whole head turned in his direction. "And I think you are too."

And he didn't have to ask her what she meant by that. He already did.

The two of them stared out at the rippling water and the prancing creatures that Miles still couldn't see the beauty in, but it was more of a diss toward Zaka's smart ass than the species itself. And as he stared out into the vastness of it all, something dinged in Miles' head.

"What happened to your parents?"

There was another pause. "Why?"

Miles shrugged. "You ask me all types of questions; I think it is only fair I can ask you a few of my own." He looked at her then. "If that is okay."

She stared at the sky, and he knew she was purposely trying to avoid his gaze. She took a breath and Miles could see her already large ribcage expanding, then slowly going down as she let up the breath. She rolled her tongue around the inside of her bottom lip.

"They died."

He figured as much. "I'm sorry."

"You didn't kill them," she said almost petulantly. Deep down, there was still a defensive little girl fighting for survival, even as her calm, adult exterior was her driving vessel. "I never understood why people said that; what do you have to be sorry for?"

"Then I feel badly that your parents are dead," Miles corrected himself. "How did they die?"

"My mother got sick," she said bluntly. "I was eight when she passed. I know, like it was written on my flesh in the stars, that it happened so fast I couldn't even give her a proper goodbye," her voice broke there. "But in my head and heart, it also happened so slowly." She looked at him then, normally gentle yellow eyes now hardened with heated intensity, water lining them, and it took everything in his power to not put a hand on hers. "Have you ever watched someone you love die?"

He had but, not in the way she would understand. "No."

S'rrona smiled bitterly, her fangs exposed. "It's the worst pain ever. It feels like your heart is a fist and it keeps squeezing and squeezing and squeezing and you are looking for relief but the main person you go to for that relief is gone so you are stuck with this vise grip in your chest…" she shook her head and sniffed, looking back at the sky. "I don't wish it on anyone."

It was Miles' turn to pause. "And your dad?"

"My dad dissolved right before my eyes after my mother died," she sighed. "He wouldn't eat, he wouldn't drink, he wouldn't even direct the clan in their daily goings on; that was how I became Tsahik before my time. They came to me instead of my fading father." There was resentment behind her words, but not the kind where she was angry at her father for giving up. It seemed like she was angry at a force outside of her family, her goddess or whatever.

"He just gave up?"
S'rrona shook her head, her eyes glazed over in her memory. "It was as if he had heard the voice of the Great Mother, because the week before he died, he started to take control of the clan again. He started doing something…" a single tear rolled down her cheek and she wiped it away. "My father went out for a stroll or a hunt or something—the elders of the village will never tell me the real reason—and never came back. He new the forest like the back of his hand so when he was gone for hours, we got scared…" Miles clinched his jaw, S'rrona took a breath. "They found him laying on his back in a river near the foot of the volcano, his weaponry and clothes were stripped. We all know he didn't do this to himself, but we just didn't know who did it to him. For a while there were talks of the clan splitting up because not only was the Ole'keytan dead, but the tribe was now left in the arms of a ten-year-old. Every day, I thank Eywa for having my tribe protect me at all costs; they let me still have a childhood, even if it was small."

"Did they ever find out what happened to your father? Who did this to him?"

"No, to this day it is a mystery," then she sat up, leaning into Miles, her eyes narrowed. "But I think it was the ashy people we see now."

"Ashy people?" Now Miles was thoroughly confused.

S'rrona's eyes widened. "Yes," she stressed. "We have all seen them, even me. They hide around corners and stare at you from afar, but when you turn to look, they are gone."

Miles stared at her with what he was sure was a look of incredulity. "Are you pulling my leg right now?"

"No!" S'rrona looked at her hands. "I'm not even touching you."
Miles slapped his hand on his head and sighed in amusement. "Now, I mean—are you serious?"

"Yes!" She said with more passion. "I have seen them. I have even tried to talk to them, but they don't answer."

"Where did they come from?" Because if there was another group of Na'vi on this island, it would be in his best interest to know. See what they know about what happened won the Seadragon; he couldn't have anyone putting him in harms way.

S'rrona shook her head. "Maybe another cave, who knows? But they seem harmless."

"They seem creepy."

S'rrona smirked. "Yes, they are creepy. But that has nothing to do with what we are doing. As long as they stay away from us, we will be fine."

She was dim in the moonlight, even with the light dancing on her dark blue skin. He thought he may like the fact she didn't glow like he did or the other Na'vi did. It made her unique and he liked unique.

"Why are you staring at me like that?"

Miles backed off. "Like what?"

"Just staring," S'rrona said. "Why?"

"I can't look at you?" S'rrona quirked her mouth to the side. Miles had to play this off. "Fine, its because your breath smells like festering meat."

S'rrona's eyes shot open. She covered her mouth and Miles laughed, quickly standing, and dashing for the water. She soon got the joke and came barreling after him. Miles dove into the water, watching from below the surface as S'rrona's shadow passed over him. Meters away, something hard landed into the water and between the flurry of bubble and water, they locked eyes. Miles splashed to the surface. He gasped and looked around. Seconds following, S'rrona rose from the depths and stared at him.

"I was just joking—" water gobbled him up and spat him out. He stared at her and all she did was give him a wide, faux innocent grin. "Oh, you are going to get it!" Miles shoved water toward her, and she splashed him back just in time.

She laughed hard, the sound bouncing off the trees and waterfall before disappearing into the waters below. She held her arms out and a tornado of water dove onto Miles and he gagged a little, coughing up water. When he wiped his face, he saw her swimming away, casting long looks over her shoulder.

A challenge.

He dove under the water and kicked. She was fast, he guessed living on an island would do that to a person, but suddenly, she stopped. From down below, Miles watched her kick her legs enough to stay afloat but she twisted back and forth looking for him. She even swam a little.

"MilesQuaritch?" Her voice was muffled from where he was. "MilesQuaritch?"

Like a jet, Miles yanked her below the surface with the quickness. She gapped at him, bubbles rising from her mouth. He grinned at her before taking off to the surface. She joined him.

"No fair!"

"Plenty fair!" he pushed his hair over his head, the curls now touched his shoulders. S'rrona sprayed him with water and, as if he was acting on impulse, Miles grabbed her. Her eyes widened and he was pretty sure his own did too. "Sorry," but he was still holding onto her hips.

She was beautiful.

He could admit that. It wasn't weird to find a Na'vi beautiful. Afterall, he wasa "Na'vi," it should be normal to be attracted to one, right? Anyone would be attracted to her; she was pretty. She wass kind. She was gentle. He liked that.

He liked her.

"You're doing it again."

"Doing what?"

"Staring."

Miles breathed out long and heavy through his nose. "S'rrona, I…" but the words died on his lips.

"Yes?"

He shook his head and swam back, letting go of her hips. "I think we should be getting back; don't you think?"

And for a second, just a brief second, Miles could have sworn he saw that pout again.

-a week later-

The next week or so, Miles stayed away from S'rrona. When she came knocking at his door, he didn't answer. When he spotted her in a crowd, he would turn and walk the other way. If she tried to talk to him after the morning prayer, he would not respond. One day three, her temper flared. She cornered him at the Tree of Souls and nearly yelled at him, berating him for ignoring her. Miles listened to what she had to say, but walked away as soon as she was finished. On day five, she sent Peyral to talk to him for her. Miles simply told her that he was "thinking about somethings," and that he would get to her in a few days. On day seven, S'rrona ignored him back.

He wasn't going to be like this forever; he just had something he needed to work out. One of them being how he felt about this tribe and how he felt about her. He caught himself thinking of this place like his hone, always saying "let's go home," or "we have to go home." Some of the Na'vi he would hunt with teased him about how he got flustered when he slipped up, but for the most part; everything was good. They considered the Cave System his home too.

Miles brought food home from the hunt about three times that week, each being either a wild pig-thing or a wild deer-thing. He was proud of himself. The people of the village congratulated him whenever they saw him strutting his stuff, his head held high. These days he thought less and less about wanting to go back to his old than establishing a new life here.

A few of his hunting party friends even tried to hook him up with their sisters or female friends, but none took. Even M'Baka, Peyral's pretty mate, tried to hook him up with her brother in hopes that might tickle his fancy. It didn't, but he did appreciate the effort.

No, even with all these pretty women floating about him, he only had eyes for one.

Miles stood behind a tree, trying to keep his breathing shallow. He had been tracking this pig-thing for about a few miles now and it was starting to get annoying that he couldn't sneak up on it and snatch it. Every other meter, the pig-thing would stop and look around and even though it never saw him, Miles couldn't help but think it new he was there. He had one job, kill an animal then go get Peyral, who wasn't too far from him, so she could bless it and they could take it back. That was it, but that damn pig-thing was making it so much harder!

The creature stopped again to graze and looked around. "Oh my god!" Miles mouthed to himself. "I'm going to lose it!"

The pig-thing disappeared around a thick line of bushes, Miles took a breath and followed Dinner. He again, kept low to the ground, the bolas at the ready and sidestepped along the bush line. The pig-thing took a turn and again, disappeared behind a tree. Miles sped up, not trying to lose it, but just as he was about to turn the corner, he heard a pop.

He froze, his brain taking longer than he liked to identify that sound.

Another pop and, then a squeal and Miles was running.

He rounded the corner and skidded to a stop. What breath he was holding evaporated from his lungs as he stared down at the slaughtered animal, red crimson liquid pooling around it. His mouth dropped when he saw the man standing above it.

"Wainfleet?"

Lyle, or whatever was left of the man, snarled at Miles, who hissed back. Lyle dropped to his knees and covered the kill with his own body, blood soaking the front of his dirty undershirt. That was all he was wearing, a tattered and dirty undershirt. Miles made sure to keep his eyes fixed on his face. A face he didn't recognize, not wholly. He was emaciated, wrinkles and folds were in places where they ought not to be. Blisters riddled his hands and his arms and his face and neck, pretty much anywhere the sun would have touched. He was so much darker from the sun. His eyes were hollow, lifeless, the only reason why Miles knew who he was because of the dog tags that only he wrapped around his wrists. A on of those guns that shot multiple rounds, was clutched in his hands and across from him, spattered against the trees were…parts of the pig-thing.

Miles didn't dare take a step, but he did lower the bolas, placing his hands in the air. "Wainfleet." Lyle snarled again, white foam coming down his mouth. It was almost like he was rabid. "Lyle, its me. Miles. Lyle stared at him, a flash of recognition in his eyes. Miles took a step forward, arms out. "Hey…its okay. You hear me? It's all right." Lyle watched as Miles slowly approached him. He reached down only to recoil fast when Lyle tried to bite at his hand. "Chill the hell out!" Miles shouted. "Damn! I'm trying to help you!" Lyle hissed again, but his ears flattened. Slowly, Miles reached down and when he was inches away, he snatched the gun from Lyle. Lyle held on to the trigger and the two of them tumbled back, a deafening pop exploding from the chamber. They went still, waiting for the other to figure out if they had been shot or not.

"MilesQuaritch!" That was Peyral, she must have heard the shot! Miles shoved Lyle off him and scrambled to his feet. "MilesQuaritch!" Her voice was closer and there was a hint of slow rising panic on the edge of it. Miles raced to the edge of the forest, tossing the gun into a pile of newly fallen leaves. He would have to come back to make sure it was gone completely.

He then turned to Lyle, who had his face buried in the pig-thing. Water coated Miles' mouth and he looked away when he felt his stomach start to heave. "Be quiet, Wainfleet. Let me do all the talking."

Not that Lyle knew any Na'vi.

The once long thought dormant part of Miles' brain, the one where he was a Corporal, switched back on. Every inch of him was on alert, he could feel almost every single whip of the breeze against his skin and blade of grass under his feet. He stood by the tree, ready to be the first person Peyral met when she came running over. He didn't know how, but he knew that his first priority was to get Lyle back home safely. S'rrona would know what to do; she did it for him. She could do it again.

Peyral rounded the tree and came to a sudden stop when she saw Miles. Her eyes were wide, the knuckles on the hand that gripped the club were turning white. She was worried.

"Why didn't you answer me!" She snapped, almost yelled. The fury he saw when he first got to the tribe and was directed toward S'rrona, and that other guy was now directed toward him. He didn't know what that meant, he didn't have time to think when a heavy hand came to the side of his head. The impact was dull and thick, but irritation bloomed within him. "Answer me!"

"I'm sorry, I didn't hear you—"

"You're lying," Peyral cut him off. "You wouldn't be standing her and waiting for me if you hadn't." She was a guard, someone tactical; she would see right through him. When Miles had no comeback to what she said, something in her gaze shifted. That all too familiar suspicious look she always gave him was back, her eyes flitted behind him, but she was too small to see anything but trees. "What is going on?

"Nothing!" He had to find another way to get this out. "It's just—"

But Peyral didn't wait for him to say anything, she shoved him aside, storming past him only to come to a quick stop when she saw Lyle sitting on his knees, chunks of raw flesh dangling from his mouth. His hands were covered in blood.

"What the—"

The sound of whatever Peyral was going to say was cut off by the sound of Miles retching.