Night fell on Bridgehead, and a nocturnal resident with large, sensitive eyes traversed the dark plains with confidence, checking over his shoulder every couple of metres as he progressed. On the outskirts of teepees, he impersonated the coo of a mourning dove so accurately it would have attracted another if they populated the world; instead, a fair Na'vi emerged, and silently she flew over the grounds towards her caller, whose ears perked in anticipation. He raised from a crouch to offer his hand, and she ducked with him behind the farthest tent. There, safe from spying eyes, Säro and Lyle fondly greeted one another.
Surreptitiously, he escorted her back towards the cabins. Passing his home, only the great wall of their enclosure was privy to their rendezvous as Lyle introduced her to a building of recent construction. Quietly rolling up the door, they entered the hangar.
In lieu of a roof, sturdy rods ran above their heads, sizable enough for perching. Lyle pressed some buttons on his wristband, and a green light started to flash on its display. From there, he watched the clear night sky in wait.
Time was getting on, and the man nervously rubbed his neck. "It's, uh, still in the working phase."
"Are you sure of this, Ly'il? I not want to make trouble."
"It's no trouble at all, trust me." He then flicked a charming smile. "Your English is getting pretty good."
She blushed and pressed her chest to steady her breathing when a sudden banshee cry startled her. She instinctively ducked behind the recombinant as an ikran, suited up in military gear, came swooping in.
Lyle nudged his thumb at the dragon. "That's Ballsy."
"Ball-zee," she repeated in amazement. Hearing her attempt the name caused an unwitting look of adoration. The soldier politely took her hand and led her up the wall-mounted stairs towards the fly gallery. Säro stood by as she watched Ly'il, all at once, link to his mount, wedge his foot in the stirrup, then lift onto the saddle.
"C'mon, little lady," he couldn't resist saying while offering his hand. Biting her bottom lip, she bravely stepped towards the animal. Once secure, Lyle gave the mental command, and Ballistic Missile fanned out his incredible wings in preparation. The beast launched from its perch to climb the air, and Säro, holding fast, beheld her village as it shrank before her eyes.
When they reached the city wall, she feared the guns, but a signal emanating from the ikran's outfit commanded the sentries to hold their tongues, and Lyle landed Ballsy on top of one just to assure his maiden they were perfectly safe. Beyond the turrets was the romantic wild, and it was unbelievable for the captive to see the natural horizon again; it was freedom itself. The ikran reared once more, and they took off for an adventure.
They breached the stratus aerosol, and sprays of white puffs danced in their wake as curling forms. The higher drifting clouds wore halos crowned by Polyphemus himself, and they lent their shine to the elated pair. Säro inhaled the nightly breeze, wincing from her head wrap flapping around her face as they increased in speed. She pulled it off, letting her kinky hair fan out, and gasped from the sensation of the wind brushing her head.
The trio journeyed to the Pandoran veldt, where animals raced the wind over a sprawling plain. At night, the flicking yellow grass appeared purple, and it bowed in unison under the ikran's mighty sweep.
Unknowingly, the tourists startled a troupe of unguldells, and the six-legged ballerinas, flaunting svelte necks laced in glowing freckles, sprinted across the savannah stage. The sky-riders flew alongside the graceful herd as they leapt into the air like they had wings themselves, igniting the ground with their dainty footwork.
He guided Ballsy over a hill and flowed with the unguldells until they poured out onto the shores of the Ngop'ake delta. His ikran caressed the blue waters, softly speckled with luminous algae, while, just ahead, a dazzling cloud hung in the air. Hundreds of liltee flies were courting for the season, and Lyle accidentally sped through their buzzing swarm. He spat up glitter and had to wipe his face of viridescent ooze but didn't mind so much after hearing Säro laugh.
To avoid the frenzied insects, Lyle raised Ballsy up the towering ompu trees, renowned for their girth. They corkscrewed around a wide trunk, where phosphorescent handprints and stylized depictions of animals populated the bark.
Their flight brought them to a hilltop, and after daring each other, they leapt off the ikran and let themselves roll down the slope, leaving behind trails of flattened pasture. Säro's chest was heaving from excitement for doing something so bold. She poked her head over the fields to spot her companion, who had skidded into a patch of dirt. He rubbed his face, then hooted. Säro bounded through the tall grass following the sound of his voice when Ball-zee soared low overhead, thrusting her forward. Lyle apologized profusely and took off after his rude banshee when he realized he had no idea how to get him back.
"C'mere, Ballsy! Ballsy! Stupid bird! C'mere!"
"Can you not use pxawpxun (armband)?"
"Can't. It'll tell him to fly back to Bridgehead—then we'd be stranded out here."
She blushed and hid an impish smile, then offered another idea. "Why not use meat?"
"Meat? Hey, that's a good idea. Why didn't I think of that? Dang it."
He called him again, but the sassy ikran hissed at Lyle, choosing to jounce over the plains and let himself be chased. They scurried through the grass in a game of the banshee's own creation until he eventually rested, thoroughly satisfied, and the race towards him slowed into a stroll. They stopped at the top of the hill and sat on a bed of grass under a blanket of stars to enjoy the view.
The glinting sky, the rolling hills, a limitless horizon—but, for Lyle, the world was already magical because he had Säro to enjoy it with. He spotted the far-reaching light of a village campfire. "What's that over there?"
"It is Tim'waya village. Small clan. We Anurai meet an' tance with them many times."
Lyle studied the distant wigwams.
"My sister an' I like the same boy from clan when visit many years ago. After many fights, boy take someone else." She smirked.
"Oh yeah? I guess no matter where you go, siblings are the same."
"You have one too?"
"A brother. He taught me how to hunt without a—" A lone liltee fly came darting past that seized his attention. With eyes following its every sporadic movement, Lyle suddenly snatched it. Opening his hand cage, he presented the dazzling gift to the lady, and the freed captive zipped away to find a mate.
"Very fast," she complimented.
"I grew up in swamp country. We had all these fireflies that my brother taught me to catch. That's how I became a sniper."
"Sniper?"
"It's what I do. Spot things from a distance and shoot. The trick is to do it without breathing. My brother showed me how, and we would sneak up on all kinds of animals. Take a stone and"—he imitated chucking a pebble accompanied by a whistle—"instant kill."
"My sister taught me to hunt too."
"No kiddin'?"
"Yes, we hunt using spear. When we spear the animal, we run after it for many, many aysrr (days) until the animal fall from woun'."
"Phew. Impressive."
"My sister is great hunter."
"She the older one?"
"Yes, by three years."
"Hey, same with my brother."
"What is he like?"
"Tough. Fought all the time. Had me on my back with a busted nose, bleeding all over myself."
"Why hit you?"
"Just tryin' to knock some sense into me, I guess."
"Same for me. Sister always trying to keep me from trouble. She gave me a name. Stiwitsyìp."
"'Little Mischief'? That's cute. Whatever you did, you were probably an angel compared to me. I don't think I can repeat what my brother called me."
"What is his name?"
"Eddie. Yours?"
She looked to the horizon before wistfully sharing the name. "Häku."
"You miss her a lot, don't you?"
She bowed her head.
"Would you like to see her? I could fly you there?"
She gasped. "You woult take me?"
"You know it. C'mon, let's go."
With favourable winds, the trip to the Anurai village took less than an hour. Lyle soared above the eclectic grove of ancient bones, and the haunting sculptures of undead beasts captivated the resurrected soldier. His banshee landed in view of an exanimate sentry, and Säro dismounted.
"Wait for me an' fly ikran. I will return soon."
Lyle obeyed and set off. Once alone, she watchfully stepped down the lane and whistled a series of deep-throated notes mimicking the nocturnal tìter bird. After informing her clan that a friend approached, Säro entered the village firelight.
|"Who are you, visitor?"|
|"I am Anurai. Säro te Pakaw 'rrtang'ite. I have come to see my sister."|
|"Eywa be with us!"| one gasped and rushed off to disturb his olo'eykte from rest.
Häku emerged from her tent with deliberation. Though she was informed, the olo'eykte could not believe her eyes. The sisters stood in silence, gaping at the other, before ultimately running up to embrace.
"Stiwitsyìp!" Häku cried, clutching her sister. She held her at arm's length to take in her person. Her clothes were strange and scent unfamiliar, but she was unmistakably her sister. It had been many years since they last saw one another, and now Säro was a full-grown woman.
|"Father speaks that you are clan leader now."|
|"He speaks right,"| the olo'eykte laughed, repeatedly running her hands up and down her relation's arm to assure herself this was real and not some apparition. |"How is he?"|
|"He is well. Oh, sister, I have missed you so much."|
Once Häku recovered from the shock of the unexpected reunion, a burning question swelled in her mind. |"How did you escape that wicked land?"|
|"I— I did not escape. My visit is temporary."|
|"But you cannot return!"|
|"Sister, I must. Father—"|
|"Would tell you the same."|
|"Please, Häku. I cannot test the patience of my friend. He brought me here out of kindness. This can be a visit only."|
|"He?"|
Säro flinched and looked away. Once again, the elder sibling sensed danger for the curious mind too open for its own good. |"Who is this friend you speak of?"|
The woman blushed. |"His name is Ly'il. He died in battle, and the Skypeople thoughtlessly placed his spirit in a Na'vi body against his will."|
For an uncomfortable interval, Häku was darkly quiet, and with each silent second she indulged, it wasted what precious time they had together. |"What has Father said of this?"| she finally broke.
|"Nothing. They are friendly with each other."|
|"Has he not spoken of anything else?"|
|"What else would he speak of?"|
Häku deduced that their father was keeping Säro ignorant, suspecting it was because of her friendship. |"You should not have come here tonight, Säro. You should not have accepted anything from him."|
"Häku…"
"Kehe!" Her bone ornaments rattled. |"I have heard stories of these demons. They slaughtered every one of Anotang's men at Txintseng Sawtuteyä (Hell's Gate). I have also heard—" She hesitated before continuing in a lower voice, "That the one who destroyed the home of the Omatikaya walks among them."|
The serf woman backed away in shock. |"No. No, it cannot be."|
|"You see now why it is dangerous to be with them?"|
|"Ly'il is good. I keep saying to everyone, 'Ly'il is good!'"|
|"They are still the enemy! Between you and him, he is the one with power, Säro, not you."|
She let her eyes fall, having no counter to the argument.
|"Where is your friend now?"|
|"He circles on his ikran."|
|"You must return with him to his land. Come, sister. You were too brazen to have come here at all."|
|"I'm brazen? He risked himself so that I could see you again! Why do you interpret this as wrong?"|
|"Because he has eyes for you, sister. Men are never kind for kindness' sake—they design. Promise me, Little Mischief. Do not let your relationship with him go any farther."| Säro would not agree, let alone look her in the eye. Häku had to hold up the face and shake it earnestly. |"Promise me!"| she begged.
Despite having to wipe away the building mist, the younger spoke with firmness. |"I have made my choice, Häku."|
The elder observed her blood relation from across the invisible chasm that was widening. She dropped her arms in anguish. |"You are choosing death, Säro."|
The bondswoman held her head high. |"I am already dead. I have been dead for many years. With Ly'il, I live. By choosing him, I choose life."|
At that moment, Häku saw into Säro and discovered a woman who had matured outside of her guidance. The keeper yielded, not that her doubts dissipated but that her Little Mischief was little no more.
|"I want to see him for myself then. Will you allow me?"|
|"Of course!"|
She escorted her sister to a clearing beyond the village. With a wave, she beckoned the recombinant to land, and he dismounted, not expecting to find two.
"Ly'il. My sister, Häku."
Having already been introduced to her father, he confidently bowed his head and took up the unoffered hand. "Lyle Wainfleet. Pleased to meet ya." The chieftess was not prepared to have her hand so manhandled by the stranger but tolerated it for her sister's sake. Säro was blushing fiercely, wishing Ly'il would remember his manners like he did on that first day they met.
|"Treat my sister well, Ly'il,"| Häku replied briskly.
"Yes, ma'am. I mean, sir-rain nawmtoo."
Satisfied, Häku turned to embrace Säro once more, expressing all that she could in that tangible gesture for what may very well be a permanent goodbye. |"Goodbye, Säro. And please, please remember to walk steadily and in a straight line. You go back to a place that wants it this way."|
The siblings shed tears, and Lyle, once again, could only stand around awkwardly. Appreciating his sensibility in waiting for them to finish, Häku then released Säro to Lyle. The recombinant bid farewell in Na'vi fashion and the leader of the Anurai returned the salute.
|"Eywa,"| the olo'eykte prayed, watching the pair as they disappeared into the night, |"protect my sister in the wicked land; and, if You can, please, please give her sense."|
Lyle soared over rolling acres of grassland, travelling to one last location Säro wished to visit before returning to Bridgehead. It was not far from her village and visible from above, thanks to its angelic glow.
He landed before a shrine that took his breath away. Constructed by the people of the plains using the pxaypxun plant, it was a large structure of intertwined golden branches, meticulously moulded to take up their neighbour's hand, forming tunnels of geniality.
"I will pray here."
"Is this one of your brain trees?" the recombinant wondered, sensing the palpable divinity.
The Na'vi woman knew the alien would be forbidden from entering the sacred den, but she wanted to repay a debt by also saving him from death. Opening her hand, the Bodhisattva invited the revenant to take the spirit walk.
Lyle traversed down the holy path pulsating with energy as if souls were actively flowing through the branches like blood cells through a vein. The very hairs of his arm pulled towards the spirit realm he felt was just beyond him, and if he but reached out his hand, it would penetrate some aqueous screen, and the illusion of his mortal plane would evaporate. Inside the innermost section of the shrine was a vault that spanned yards above their heads. Growing in the middle was an incredible tree with thousands of tiny, coral-like branches. Lyle ducked under the living arbour as he circled the room. Running his fingers across the nervous coral, he felt a tingling sensation as blurs of light sped through the shoots towards his hand. "What do you call this place?" the sniper breathed in excitement.
"Rima Rong Aysìreayä."
"It's wicked."
"Wicket?" Säro gasped.
"No, no. I mean, 'wicked' as in 'cool.'"
She was even more confused. "But it is a warm night."
"Yeah, it— It sure is." Lyle tittered, rubbing his neck.
"This is where my ancestors live."
"Live?"
Säro took up her queue and, kneeling before the net of golden shoots, set her lifeline upon them. The soldier was captivated as he watched a gentle smile emerge on the priestess in her prayer. It was difficult to tell if the light embracing her was external or emitting from within. He drew up his own braid and curiously studied the tendrils at the end that began wiggling with anticipation. Lyle felt uneasy watching them squirm when a press on his forearm caused him to look up.
"It is okay. Connect."
"You sure?"
She nodded, and the Marine obeyed. His mind fastened to the network, and suddenly, he was in the hall of the inner world, standing in the presence of every Na'vi who came before him. Animals pranced through the air, leaping with men and women freed from time. Happy voices flitted around Lyle with their songs of joy, hopes and dreams, and the alien was struck by the recondite sensation of being welcomed in as a brother. After only a moment, he was overwhelmed. He undid the connection; and, in a blink, the mortal returned to his explainable world.
"Whoa… That was something else. Säro, I heard singing—children laughing. I heard…myself laughing. Then you. What happened?"
"You enter Eywa." Säro hushed as she stepped towards him. "The living circle. You are part of Her life now."
Lyle noticed how close Säro was; his face was poised so near hers that the slightest lean would bring their lips together. When he had that thought, everything else melted away, and there, standing before him, was a future. He surrendered himself to her and was instantly lifted into the higher heavens. However, all good karma eventually runs out, and when Lyle's reserve dried up, he began to spiral, breaking from the kiss with pangs of guilt.
"I shouldn't…" He gulped. "You— You need to go back to your village."
"My village?"
"I'm taking you back. Stay with your sister."
"Ly'il, my sempul—"
"I'll bring your father too!" he entreated, holding her by the shoulders. "Säro, I'm not… I can't do this to you. You're…" He lowered his head. "I think I love you."
She gently clasped his quivering forearm. "Oe ftxey futa man ngahu (I choose to belong to you)," she whispered and placed her palm on his heart.
"Key fht-tey oo-ay-ti? (But rather choose me?)"
Her tender lips parted. "Tì'i'avay krrä (Till the end of time)."
The man breathlessly folded his arms around her back and shared a kiss so pure it brought them to a realm higher than the six heavens, but rather than crashing back to earth, Lyle returned as an enlightened being. With a clear and ready mind, he took up his queue. "I'm sorry it's not a ring."
Säro gazed at his offered kuru. She had her warnings and knew this path would be plagued with conflict. The grim reality of falling in love across the front lines meant there was no perfect in-between; there was only the meeting point, and that was between two rows of pointed weapons. She clasped his hand and took her braid in the other. The filaments reached out their tendrils and locked in a loving embrace. Instantly, their souls united, melding into one entity. He gasped from the overwhelming sensation rushing through his two minds. He inhaled with two sets of lungs and raced with two beating hearts, seeing through two pairs of eyes and buckling to hold two entwined bodies. It was confusing, euphoric, agonizing and erotic. He felt like throwing up. She steadied him, stopping him from collapsing forward, and when their eyes fixed, the two forces levelled out, and the united sides achieved equilibrium.
The nightly peace of Homestead was assaulted by the unexpected roar of motor engines. Quaritch was fully dressed when he peered out from his cabin and anxiously watched a motorcade en route to the banshee hangar. When the vehicles parked, Ardmore jumped out, branding the earth with her signature boots.
"Open it," she commanded, and the nearest soldier strutted over to the recombinant-sized control panel that was ridiculously out of reach, so he waved over a comrade to benefit from his shoulders. Rolling her eyes at the spectacle, it wasn't long before a new element arrived that furthered Ardmore's irritation.
"General Ardmore." Quaritch saluted.
She jutted her lips while crossing her arms behind her back. "Officer Quaritch. I've gotten wind about an unauthorized banshee flight that occurred several hours ago."
"That would be Private Wainfleet heading out for training."
She glared at him. "Training? In the middle of the night?"
"Yes. You see, the great leonopteryx doesn't hunt at this hour, making it ideal for practice."
Ardmore distrusted his ready response. "He still hasn't returned. That's a pretty long time for some training."
"He's dedicated."
"Or dead. Why haven't you reported his prolonged absence?"
"I didn't think that was necessary until sunrise—when a search would be possible." Seconds after his reply, the muffled roar of a banshee emitted from inside the hangar. Quaritch saw the soldiers struggling to reach the panel and sauntered over. "Here, let me help you with that." He rubbed his chin in contemplation as he stalled in front of the panel.
"Something the matter, recom?"
"Ten-digit code. Just struggling with that last part," he replied in a loud but cordial voice.
"Get on with it."
"Yes, ma'am." He brought himself to remember the last three inputs to disable the lock mechanism, but Quaritch took his time rolling up the door. With the veritable stage curtain lifted, the star of the show, Lyle Wainfleet, accompanied by his yawning banshee, winced from the blinding headlights. Sensing stage fright, the prepared understudy swooped in to read the first line. "Lyle, how'd the training go?"
Ardmore stormed ahead. "I'll ask the questions, recom."
"Sorry, ma'am." Quaritch was quick to apologize, offering a slight bow.
With her opportunity now ruined, she gruffed at Wainfleet. "Where did you go?"
"I travelled to the plains for some flying practice."
"You were gone for a long time."
As Lyle was being interrogated, Quaritch kept his eyes on the distracted soldiers as he ducked outside and went around stage left. He unlocked the hanger's side door and soundlessly wedged it open, where he discovered Säro crouching behind a rack of harnesses. She nearly gasped, but he signalled to keep quiet. With a nudge of his head, Säro joined him outside. From there, he guided her behind the building and instructed the Na'vi to stick to the shadows of the wall on her journey back to camp. Säro looked back in gratitude at Ly'il's colonel, but he scowled, waving impatiently for her to keep moving.
Quaritch returned to the main entrance right when the general finished her questions and issued a search. Lyle moved to do something, but a firm hand gently gripped his shoulder. The soldiers invaded every corner of the hangar, only to report that there was nothing amiss; however, this didn't satisfy the general.
"Is there something wrong, ma'am?" Quaritch initiated.
"You bet there is. Your vehicle transport may be a flock of birds, but they're still the property of HAF. Day or night, you don't authorize flights for your budgies outside the city without first getting clearance from us. You got that, recom?"
"I understand, and we apologize for the disturbance."
She grunted at his politeness, then marched to her MPV. The vehicle spat out some exhaust fumes and lumbered back to the inner city. Once gone, Lyle bolted for the enclosure.
"Your girlfriend went back to camp, Corporal. There's a side door, remember?"
He stared wide-eyed at his colonel until it finally dawned on him that he had saved their skins. "Thank you, sir," he wheezed in relief. "I know… I know I disobeyed orders, sir. I'm sorry. It won't happen again."
"Oh. Well, okay then. So long as you understand that."
Lyle was dumbfounded. Words being inadequate to express further gratitude, he returned the colonel's smile and followed him out.
"Oh, and Lyle…"
"Yes, si—"
Wainfleet was sent crashing; his hand quivered over his bleeding nose as he stared up at his sneering commander. Not satisfied with the one punch, Quaritch came over to repeatedly kick him in the side. "You chicken-brained, motherf****ing, goddamn moron! 'It won't happen again.' You bet your sorry blue ass it won't!" he chastised with another brutal punt. He then waved a warning finger at Lyle, who was clutching his sides in agony. "You may have valuable skills, Corporal, but I swear you've got a head full of peanut shells! You do anything like that again, and I'm taking that banshee of yours out back and shooting it Old Yeller style! You hear me?"
The man could only lower his head in submission. "Yes, sir," he gurgled.
Quaritch panted while brushing back his crew cut. "Since you showed me the error of my ways, I'm just returning the favour—same delivery and all." Bringing Lyle to his feet, he slapped the face a few times for good measure. "Now, hit the showers. Drill is in one hour."
Lyle gaped at his watch in disbelief, and his colonel could not contain the wicked smile.
"Hope you're well rested for it."