Kiri spanned out her arms and balanced on her ikran, wanting to see how long she could fly with no hands. Eyes closed, she let herself become Palm-Palm and felt the twirling drafts roll over her wings.

"Careful, Kiri, you risk falling doing that."

"You should see her do it while standing up," Neteyam chuckled, flying up on his father's left.

"What kind of stunts do you kids pull when I'm not looking?"

"Nothing you wouldn't do, Father."

Toruk Makto grunted. "That's assuring."

Kiri started losing her balance and wobbled forwards on Palm-Palm's neck, who steadied himself for his princess. She hugged and kissed her loyal boy before sitting back up.

With the father leading the flock, he led his offspring over the singing valley of Sosul Syanan for a casual family outing. Lately, he had been noticing a dip in Kiri's mood and figured Txurseng was to blame. When Neteyam mentioned White Flower also needed exercise, it was all Jake needed to book a pleasant afternoon to be with the kids.

Kiri drew up her special necklace, a clay whistle sculpted like a Banshee of Paradise, and played a melody. Charmed by the inviting tune, a flock of winayo gradually rose from the canopies and accompanied the family. The birds of many colours swept around them in circles, dancing to Kiri's notes, and father and son admired the billowing rainbow sheet. When the cloud sped ahead, the siblings followed, sailing on that rolling wave of iridescent wings.

A game began between the two as they merrily twirled around one another, pirouetting on their ikrans in step with the dance. With Polyphemus as their stage backdrop, the sapphirine Palm-Palm blended in with the majestic orb, while White Flower appeared like a fleck floating on a pool of swirling ink.

Jake's braided mane rippled behind him as the warrior from Earth looked upon his young. His face creased upward as he listened to their mirth, and his heart swelled with happiness. Jake didn't know what star he was born under or what act pleased Providence so much to bring him to this world, but he was thankful for his fairy-tale life and prayed that the halcyon days would never end.

Sensing Palm-Palm was growing thirsty, Kiri signalled to her father, who followed her to a muddy clearing where they landed on a pockmarked shore. The man was vigilant, scanning the still surroundings, but once the Marine was satisfied enough to dismount, he joined his daughter, who was tenderly petting her drinking dragon.

"Looks like a stampede went through here," he observed.

Kiri nodded.

"Nice day for flying. It gets gloomy at High Camp, doesn't it?"

Again, Kiri nodded, being more preoccupied with Palm-Palm.

"Noticed you've seemed glum these past few days. I know it's been hard with all the restrictions lately—you used to be able to fly wherever you like, and I've been keeping you cooped up. War's made life difficult for all of us."

She was beginning to feel uneasy.

"Hey." With a small grin, he chucked his daughter on the chin. "I want you to know you've been a good sport about it."

Kiri's eyes darted over her father's proud face before looking away in shame, hiding her guilt with another nod.

"Something wrong?"

She shook her head no, desperately wanting him to stop. Kiri's conscience had been pestering her ever since that night she snuck out with Spider. She kept trying to convince herself it was a non-issue, that it didn't matter anymore, but the guilt would not abate.

Meanwhile, Neteyam was flying freely over the jungles. In the distance, he spotted other riders—a trio, like his family, also taking advantage of the beautiful day. Disposed to politeness, the cordial prince glided their way.

|"Hail riders!"|

The recombinants turned their heads in surprise. The moment Neteyam registered their unusual trappings, he knew his mistake.

Over the hills and through the valleys, overpowering the hum of breaking falls and silencing all bird calls, shot the single discordant echo of a fired revolver. When Jake heard that American sound, he froze. The tracks of the Marine's mind switched instantly, and he bolted for his ikran to take up his machine gun.

"Kiri," he panted, securing his startled daughter by the arm, "you remember how to treat gunshot wounds?" She frantically bobbed her head. "Then take Palm-Palm and hide over there. Do not move from that spot. Remain hidden until I return. Okay?" Jake would have ordered her to fly home, but he couldn't risk her going alone if enemies were in the area. With Kiri watching fretfully, her father took off to rescue her endangered brother.

Elsewhere, Neteyam crashed on top of the dense foliage of the canopy. Limbs splayed over the mesh of leaves, and grimacing in pain, he caught the brief glimpse of a silhouette swooping towards him. A pair of dark talons snatched him up, and Neteyam was carried off to another location. It was an agonizing flight for the prince, dangling from the talons like an eagle's prey. He was eventually brought to a damp grotto where he was flung inside. Rolling onto his back, he looked up at three looming figures who were black against the bright sun. Their leader dismounted and swaggered towards him.

"The boy with the albino banshee."

Neteyam locked with the narrow set of eyes and bared his fangs in response.

"Takes after his mother."

"Rä'ä plltxe ne teri oeyä Sa'nok, nga Natangeveng!" Neteyam flew at his captor with a curved knife, but Wainfleet shot it from his grip. The blade snapped against the rocks, emitting a sharp clang that battered throughout the cave.

"Good shooting, Corporal."

Wainfleet grunted in satisfaction.

|"What are you!"|

|"We be recombinants,"| Quaritch answered in broken Na'vi. The colonel shook his head sinisterly as he stepped over. "But something tells me you understand English just fine." He yanked Neteyam by the hair and held him in place to study his features. "No eyebrows." He clasped the wrist to study the hand. "Four fingers…but enough of him in that sour puss of yours." Quaritch turned to the others. "We're in luck, team. This, here, is Sully's boy."

Lyle and CJ were flabbergasted and looked upon their captive in a new light. "Uh, isn't he a bit old to be his son?"

"Na'vi age fast. So do half-breeds by the looks of it," he growled and, stripping him of his bow, threw him at CJ's feet. "Strap 'em to your banshee. We're hauling him back to—" Quaritch's eyes fell on the weapon; and, all at once, his mind left him, leaving the form as it last was, staring vacantly at those blue ikran chin vanes of Eytukan's bow. Lyle and CJ were unnerved by his sudden possession.

"Sir?"

Quaritch did not register her voice. However, Neteyam could perceive the fear surfacing in the fixed gaze. "You recognize it… You recognize the bow that killed you. You are Quaritch!"

The colonel was pulled from his trance and stared at Neteyam.

"Vrrtepeyktan…"

"Vrrtep…?" At first, Quaritch frowned, but when it flipped, it was an unwelcome replacement for the captive. "You folks call me the demon king? Well, how 'bout that?" He turned to CJ and Lyle. "Told you I'd blow a crater in their racial memories."

"How are you him!"

"Long story." Making use of the bow to lift Neteyam's chin, he indulged in a friendly tone. "You see, we, here, have all been resurrected from the dead." He moved the reluctant head in Lyle's direction. "Over there is Corporal Lyle Wainfleet." Lyle had his arms crossed and lifted a single finger in a wave. Quaritch then moved the head directly up. "This, here, is Miss Casey Jones Zdinarsk. Say hello, Casey."

She leered down at Neteyam. "Hello, Casey."

"And I'm Colonel Quaritch. But I must admit, I rather like your name for me. Has a ring to it."

As much as Wainfleet enjoyed the entertainment, he briefly diverted his attention to ensure the area when he espied a rider. "Sir, we got another."

Quaritch immediately abandoned his taunting and, hanging the bow off his back, moved to the ledge, aligning his sight to where his corporal pointed out. He took up his binoculars and rested his foot on a rock to balance himself. When he caught Jake's image in those dirty lenses, he couldn't contain his smile. "Well, I'll be damned… Looks like your old man is looking for you."

The prince sprang to his feet, hoping to warn his father, but was tackled by Wainfleet.

"Hold him down!" Quaritch bellowed. "And tie 'em up."

With CJ's assistance, the boy was subdued long enough for Lyle to snap the RDA-branded restraints around the wrists. Afterwards, Wainfleet joined his colonel. "You sure that's him?"

"It's him, alright. I'd recognize that loincloth anywhere. Stay here and watch the half-breed," Quaritch ordered and mounted his ikran.

"Where are you going?"

"To get Sully!"

"But sir, we're—"

Quaritch dove his ikran down the cliff and levelled out over the trees in pursuit, leaving Lyle hanging on his sentence.

Jake was circling Bob over the trees, desperately scanning the area for any sign of his son, but his eyes were on the jungle and not the sky where the hunter lurked directly overhead.

Quaritch's manic gaze was locked on Sully as his pumping adrenaline sent his mind into a frenzy; this was his chance for vengeance. Quaritch drew out his revolver, but as he aimed it, a new idea spawned in his mind. Through the link, he had Gloria pull up her talons, and he dived for his prey. But what the greenhorn didn't factor was the full meaning of the name "Toruk Makto," that only the riders who had been hunted by Last Shadow would know what to do when suddenly finding themselves engulfed by blackness.

Jake immediately folded in Bob's wings and dive-bombed for the jungle. Where the more experienced flyer shot through the dense understory, the beginner was snagged by a net of vines, losing his revolver in the process. Jake landed on a trunk to look over his shoulder and saw through the myriad of leaves, someone caught in the branches. He recognized not the yowls of a disappointed toruk but the curses of an incensed Marine. It was one of the non-linkers—trapped—and Toruk Makto was the one with the machine gun.

The tables were turned.

Quaritch freed himself and was hovering over the canopy when, all of a sudden, a spray of leaves jettisoned into the air, and he was beset with a Na'vi war cry that pitched, rolled and fell in a way that made his blood run cold. The alarmed Quaritch performed a desperate U-turn to escape the barrage skimming past his head. The recombinant tried to execute a barrel roll to evade the rapid fire, but with his mount frightened and himself too inexperienced, he fumbled the execution. A bullet sailed straight through his arm, and both rider and beast yowled in pain. Forced to fly with one hand and unable to outrace Sully, Quaritch's only hope was to serpentine.

Thoughts of his son galvanized Jake to remain nailed to his enemy's tail, and when he identified Neteyam's bow on the demon's back, it sent his anger to new heights. He positioned himself right behind his mark, levelling out and keeping up with the winding turns, but his target banked against a floating mountain, and the attacking bullets ricocheted off the rock, causing clouds of dust to erupt from the cliff. Both continued turning the bends, circling the mountain in their spiral ascent, but rather than pursuing all the way to the top, Jake doubled back to fly in the opposite direction.

When Quaritch made it to the peak, he was looking behind him for his pursuer when Sully shot up in front. Gloria panicked as her rider tried to flee, and several bullets pierced her wings. She bucked Quaritch, and he fell screaming down a cleft, smacking against the slate floor with his blood splattering all over the surface. His carbon-fibre-reinforced bones survived the ordeal but didn't spare him from the pain. Save for a ledge to his right, Quaritch was now framed against towering shelves of rock. He shuffled to his feet with a wheeze as Sully, unbeknownst to him, perched on a boulder above. The man jumped down, and the recombinant spun around to see a barrel aimed directly between his eyes that led him up against a wall.

"Put your hands up!"

He was barely able to move his arms and made a feeble attempt that enraged the expatriate.

"I said put your hands up! Now!"

His roars were ground shaking; another effort and Quaritch, with a puddle of blood collecting under his left arm, could only command his uninjured right.

Jake inched closer, not letting the bridge of the demon's nose leave his weapon's scope. It was then that he recognized him. "Quaritch?"

The colonel's face, twitching in pain, mustered a faint grin. "Hello, Sully."

The man already had a visceral warning of his return, but to see his vanquished enemy standing before him as something real was hard to prepare for. With no time to waste, Jake thundered, "Where's my son!"

"My men are taking him to Bridgehead. You want to see him again…" Quaritch paused to gnash his teeth, the cold-burning throes overtaking him. "I suggest you play nice."

Neteyam's well-being was all that kept Jake from pulling the trigger. His unflinching gaze caught the throat communicator on the colonel's neck. "Remove your comm mic. One wrong move, and it's bullets between the eyes."

Heeding how his second life now hung in the balance, the recombinant unfastened the band and tossed it to his feet.

"Earpiece too."

He popped out the device and threw it to him.

With his weapon still trained, Jake bent down to pick up the receiver to set it in his ear. He then held up the communicator to his mouth. "Whoever hears this, listen very carefully. I have Quaritch."

"Who is this?"

Jake thought he recognized the voice but didn't dwell on it. "Put my son on, or I kill the colonel where he stands. Do it!"

Back at camp, Lyle removed his comm mic and brought it close to the hostage with the simple instruction to speak. The prince had an educated guess on who controlled the other end and did not waste the opportunity to cry out as loud as he could. "Father! They—"

Annoyed, Lyle snatched it back before the captive could say more. "What do you want?" he growled.

"We do an exchange. You follow Quaritch's tracker to a floating mountain, and you bring my son. Any injury he's suffered will be gifted to the colonel."

Flicking away the throat comm, Sully used both hands to hold up his machine gun. "How are you alive?"

He was on the verge of fainting but attempted another cocky smile. "You can't keep…a good Marine down…"

Jake bobbed his machine gun, silently warning him not to be cute. "How did they bring you back?"

"They preserved…my mind…"

Sully couldn't understand it. His eyes danced over Quaritch's twitching face, trying to comprehend this supposed "miracle of science."

"On your knees. Now!"

The moment Quaritch bent his legs, he crashed forward on his arm with a yelp. Toruk Makto came over and removed the ancestral bow from the demon king's back. Eyes lingering on the insulted weapon, he used it to strike its thief upside the head.

Quaritch cried out as he collapsed and only heard the sound of his pulse, pounding in his ears, as his wrists were fastened together.

Wainfleet gripped Neteyam by the queue as he flew with CJ, following the tracker's signal. They arrived at a desolate floating mountain and watchfully flew up its sides until they came to an expansive ledge where CJ spotted their colonel, tied up, with no sign of the assailant. They chucked Neteyam off, who rolled over the slate, and Lyle took shelter behind a boulder, whereas CJ hid behind one to her right. With a signal from Lyle, CJ maneuvered over to her commander while keeping her pistol at high ready.

She crouched over him. "Sir?"

"Leave the kid here…or…Sully will shoot…"

She called over to Lyle as she cut his bonds. "He's alive! Let's take him and go." The sniper stepped out and acted as their cover, aiming his rifle upward in the event of raining fire. Casey propped up Quaritch but struggled to bring him to his feet. Her body went cold from the blood saturating her clothes. "He's pretty bad."

"I'll…lick it," he grunted as he was assisted to their banshees.

Casey hoisted him onto the saddle, where he slumped against her. "We'll get you patched up, sir. Don't worry."

Quaritch replied with another grunt, and the banshees took off.

With the danger gone, Jake emerged from behind a rock and ran over. He unsnapped the binders and anxiously fondled his son. "Are you hurt? Did they shoot you?"

Neteyam had to wait for his father to stop squeezing him before he could answer. "They missed—Father, it's him. It's Vrrtepeyktan!"

"I know," he breathed, patting the braided hair.

"He recognized my bow. Father, how is this possible? How could his spirit come back?"

"I don't know."

"The Skypeople are sorcerers."

Jake was beginning to believe it himself. "Here." He smiled, handing him back Eytukan's bow. "Try not to lose this again."

Neteyam was relieved to see it in one piece and secured it to his back. "Where is Kiri?"

"I told her to stay hidden by a river. We have to go get her."

The afternoon was ageing, and the burning sun bounced off the running waters as the pair landed on the shore. The father called for his daughter, but when she didn't respond, both called out with still no answer. A cold fear crept over Jake, and he burst into the jungle. He spun on his heels, thrusting back fronds, crying her name, but all he found, hanging callously off a branch, was a discarded RDA tank top. Jake plucked it off very deliberately as he was struck with a succession of thoughts, each striking harder than the first. He was holding an article of men's clothing that was ripped, muddied, cast aside, and found in place of his daughter, and he remembered that Quaritch wasn't wearing a shirt. A sensation seized him, the kind of nerve-robbing nausea that blanches your skin and shoots sweat out of every pore, the kind that no father in the world, no matter their courage, should have to forbear. Jake animated himself only enough to make it back to Neteyam.

The son caught his father's unsteady gait. "Is something wrong, Father?"

"Neteyam." He swallowed hard. "Did they mention anything about finding another?"

"No. What is that?" He pointed to the cloth that was seized in Jake's quivering hand. "Where is Kiri?"

"I don't know!" He boomed. He turned for the forest and cried her name again. "I have to go after Quaritch!"

Neteyam grabbed his father's arm and brought him to a stop. "Father, wait! I know what you're thinking, and they could not have taken Kiri. They were with me the whole time, and Vrrtepeyktan was distracted by you. Kiri must have flown back to High Camp. Look, even loyal Palm-Palm is missing."

"We're wasting time," he gruffed, pushing past, but again, his son grabbed him.

"They outnumber us and have more weapons. You would kill yourself if you follow them."

"He has your sister!"

"No, he doesn't! I know Kiri. She scares easily. She would have flown back home. Please, do not be rash. When would they have time to capture her? She is safe."

He retaliated by holding his inexperienced son close, firmly clutching the shoulders. "Listen to me, Neteyam! There are certain words in my language that don't exist in Na'vi—certain words you couldn't begin to understand. I have to get back Kiri."

"And if you get yourself shot and I return to tell Kiri you are dead?"

"You don't know if she's back home!"

"And you don't know if Vrrtepeyktan harmed her. Father, compare our voices. I am calm, but you are thinking in fear. Trust me when I say this—it is not possible for them to have found Kiri. She is back home. And she is waiting for us."

Jake's pinned eyes settled on Neteyam, on the peace radiating from his gentle gaze, and finally, the blue ikran chin vanes of his trustworthy bow. After a violent mental battle between fear and rationale, the former surrendered. "Alright... Alright… We go back." Saying those words were among the hardest he ever spoke. He was facing a horrific prospect and had to bind all his strength just to not fall apart. Trusting Kiri to Neteyam's judgment, they returned home, with Jake mentally chanting the counterspell, "Kiri is safe."