Part 1: Flee of the Fallen
Chapter 5:Fate's Capture
Index Table:
Neural Queue:A specialized organ, resembling a braid, that Na'vi use to connect with other creatures or the environment, allowing them to form a physical and spiritual bond.
Spirit Tree:Also known as the Tree of Souls, a sacred and powerful tree that connects the Na'vi to their ancestors and Eywa, the deity representing the interconnectedness of all life.
Ikran:A large, colorful flying creature, also known as a mountain banshee, that the Na'vi bond with and ride. The bond between a Na'vi and their Ikran is deeply spiritual and lifelong.
Pandora:The lush, habitable moon where the Na'vi live, known for its rich biodiversity and bioluminescent flora and fauna.
Na'vi:The indigenous humanoid species of Pandora, known for their blue skin, bioluminescent markings, and deep connection to nature.
Bioluminescent Markings:The glowing patterns on Na'vi skin that light up in the dark, reflecting their emotions and connection to the natural world. These markings are unique to each Na'vi and add to their ethereal appearance.
Thanator:(Palulukan in Na'vi). This beast, resembling a tiger with its predatory instincts and sleek body, is one of Pandora's most formidable land predators.
Prolemuris: These primate-like animals have a gentle and inquisitive nature, somewhat akin to rabbits, and they use their dual sets of forearms for navigating the dense foliage of Pandora.
Ra'evani's heart raced as the strange creature, clearly not from Middle-earth, continued to stare at her hand.
She should yank back her hand right now, her mind screamed.
But instead, her keen eyes took in the face of the creature.
This mysterious being's face was breathtaking, a harmonious masterpiece of grace and strength crafted by Mother Nature. His face was strong and angular, with sharp cheekbones and a chiseled jawline that seemed carved from the white marble of moonlight. His eyes were a piercing blue, a color so deep and reflective that Rae could have sworn they might swallow her whole, like those parts of the ocean even the best Na'vi divers struggled to reach. Her breath hitched at the exact moment he stretched out a hand, as if to touch hers.
Rae felt an inexplicable connection to him, as though he embodied the very essence of the forest itself—its strength, grace, and timeless beauty. Even without her neural queue, this connection left her mesmerized, as if an invisible yet powerful bond entwined their fate, commanded by Mother Nature herself.
As this handsome creature observed her, his pupils darkened, almost blending with the color of his irises. Every detail, from the arch of his brows to the curve of his nose, was simply seysonìltsan, a voice whispered in her mind—stunningly perfect. Moreover, he exuded an ethereal aura that added to his otherworldly presence.
She was wholly disappointed when he turned away at the sound of a distant call.
Legolas.
The name echoed in her mind.
It suited him, actually. The sound of it made her think of the leaves of spring, and she felt a strange connection to this mysterious being who seemed as much a part of the forest as she was.
Rae shook her head. Staring at that strange creature's backside was not going to solve her survival problem. Just as the great leader Jake Sully once said: "Adapt, improvise, and overcome. That's how we make it out here."
The thought brought a small smile to her face as she remembered the countless nights spent with her head on her mother's lap, listening to the tales of Sully, the great leader of all Na'vi.
She would make it out here.
She would get back to Pandora, not linger in some foreign land with strange creatures who didn't even have neural queues.
Shaking off the strange encounter, Rae turned to Lizard and led him away from the bush, venturing deeper into the forest.
Every step she took, the mist darkened.
It didn't take long for Rae to notice something amiss. The forest felt sick, its life force weakened and its balance disturbed. Nothing escaped her Na'vi senses—the screeches of small animals, the moans of pain the trees emitted as she went deeper into the dark. She could feel the trees resisting the darkness, holding on to broken threads of empty hope, though it was completely useless against the encroaching shadow.
Soon, she arrived at the most withered tree she had ever seen in her nineteen years.
"What have they done to you?"Rae whispered.
She placed a hand upon its slender trunk. What should have been strong and supple was marked with deep grooves and scars, as if the very essence of life had been drained from it. It was still young, she realized, with thousands of years it should have yet to live. She saw its once-lustrous leaves—a symbol of youth and vitality—had turned a sickly shade of brown, curled and brittle at the edges. They clung weakly to the branches, trembling with every faint breeze, as if reluctant to let go of the dying tree.
Rae felt its grief as if it were her own. The tree's kin, tall and ancient, had witnessed the passage of countless seasons. She felt their sorrow for their young companion, who had barely lived past childhood. Their leaves turned a hint of gray, their branches drooping in mourning.
Then she noticed something else.
"They are trying to save it,"Rae muttered to Lizard, who stood at her side.
The ancient trees swayed gently, their roots intertwined with the withering tree's, as if trying to share their strength and life force in a desperate attempt to save it.
Gently, Rae reached behind her head to grasp her neural queue, feeling the familiar warmth of its tendrils. Rae could see it so clearly: her tribe gathered beneath the Spirit Tree, their bioluminescent bodies glowing softly in the twilight. They sang together, their voices blending in perfect harmony, a celebration of life, unity, and their bond with Mother Nature. Her mother's hand rested on her shoulder, guiding her to sing her first note. That first song had felt like a thread tying her to every tree, every leaf, and every creature in Pandora's vast forests.
She swallowed hard, her chest tightening with longing.
With reverence, she brought it forward, its bioluminescent strands glistening faintly in the dim light, and pressed it against the tree's rough bark.
A surge of emotion flowed through her, as if the tree's pain and sorrow were her own. She could feel the tree's desperate struggle to survive, its roots grasping for nourishment in the tainted soil, and the anguished voices of its kin.
Rae closed her eyes, focusing her mind and spirit on sharing her strength with the tree. She envisioned the life force of Pandora, the pure power flowing through the mother tree and into her body, pouring like the first rain of summer into this dying tree.
And she sang:
From the roots to the sky, hear my plea, Great Mother.
Bring your healing, bring your peace.
Awa we pray, in this sacred grove.
Restore the life, let your blessings flow.
May your light bring us safely home.
With the strength of the trees, ancient and wise,
We call upon the earth, and the skies.
Every branch, every leaf, feels your love,
Connected through the web of life above.
Bind the forest in your gentle embrace,
Bring back the beauty to this sacred place.
The tree responded to Rae's song, its energy slowly shifting from despair to hope. The leaves, once brittle and lifeless, began to regain a hint of their former green. The bark, marred by patches of decay, seemed to smooth and heal, as if the tree itself was beginning to believe in the possibility of recovery. The roots, still anchored in the earth, drew strength from Rae's presence, their grip tightening as they sought sustenance.
Around them, the ancient trees seemed to sense the change. Their mournful whispers turned into a gentle rustling, a chorus of encouragement and support for their young companion. The entire grove felt the touch of Rae's healing song, and for a moment, the oppressive darkness seemed to retreat, pushed back by the light of hope.
But only for this moment.
Over the next few days, perhaps weeks, for that Ra'evani is not sure as there are only one moon in this place, not the glorious three moon of Pandora.
Thankfully, she still had her knives and daggers with her, as it was her weapon of choice. In addition, a bow crafted by her father himself and a three-pack arrow were tied under Lizard's wings. This had enabled her to hunt for food under Lizard's demanding gaze. She really had no appetite these days, stuck in a foreign land did the body no good as she often skipped meals. Back at home, she remembered the tender voice of her mother: "Eat slower Ra'evani, the Palulukan is not chasing behind you."But she is often too fast for either of her parents to catch her escape the tent.
"Arghhhh!"Something familiar suddenly yanked Rae down from the branch she had been on for the past hour. With a hard 'thump', she landed on her back ungracefully and was again flung into the mid-air. "Lizard! You wicked beast!"She protested as the Ikran snorted and set her down on the soft forest floor.
Lizard wasn't done, it slammed its neural queue down to its friend's, communicating in one single word that came like a command: "Eat."
Rae's tail flickered in annoyance: "You're the baby here, stop giving me orders!"
The Ikran merely snorted and repeated the word in their mind.
"Yeah, yeah, I give up, alright, I'll go hunt. Satisfied?"Rae finally snapped and picked up the short knives while tying the rest to Lizard.
She saw the herd of spiders again, the ones that had been roaming this forest for days. Rae had been observing these eight-legged creatures for a while, noting their sleeping patterns, hunting hours, and strength. They were not the most appealing creatures to walk this land—at least, she hoped not.
And then, there was the stranger. The one who had observed her hand so intently.
She hadn't seen him since that day.
Perhaps it had been just a dream. A beautiful one, gifted by Mother Nature herself, graced with a name: Legolas.
"Why don't you look for him?" Lizard's voice came through their connection as it folded its wings neatly, walking alongside the dense trees.
"Why don't you shut up and look for suitable prey," Rae huffed, her tail flicking to tap the Ikran lightly.
Between two ancient trees, she spotted movement. A potential target. Long ears and white fur covered the small creature's body. At first glance, it resembled a Prolemuris but was much smaller and slower. Rae recalled a word from an old book left behind at a human station after the sky people fled Pandora: "rabbit." The book had been about a holiday called "Easter" and featured a rabbit that supposedly delivered colored eggs. It had also described the creature as having comically oversized front teeth.
As Rae squinted, her sharp Na'vi vision revealed no such teeth on this rabbit. The author must have been a liar, she thought wryly.
She notched an arrow and prepared to give the creature a quick, painless death.
Just as she steadied her aim, a sudden noise shattered the stillness of the forest. The rabbit's ears twitched, and in an instant, it darted into the underbrush, vanishing from sight. Rae groaned, though she wasn't particularly hungry anyway.
Curiosity quickly replaced disappointment. With her weapon in hand, she crept toward the source of the noise, Lizard trailing behind, snorting in irritation.
As Rae approached, the sounds of battle reached her ears—shouts, the clash of steel against hardened exoskeletons, and the shrill cries of spiders in pain. Her eyes widened as she peered through the foliage.
In a small clearing, a group of creatures resembling Legolas was engaged in a fierce fight with the horde of spiders. They had long hair—though not all were blonde—and wore practical clothing suited for combat. The elves moved with precision and grace, their blades gleaming in the dappled sunlight as they cut through the eight-legged adversaries.
"Creatures without neural queues are so dumb," Rae thought incredulously, rolling her eyes. "They can't even avoid conflict with other creations of Mother Nature. Why not just coexist with the eight-legs?"
Her attention, however, shifted to a tree standing on the edge of the battle. It was ancient and towering, its sprawling branches a testament to centuries of life. Yet, it was fragile—more so than any tree Rae had ever seen. Its bark was scarred and decaying, and its drooping, discolored leaves whispered of impending death. The sorrow radiating from the tree tugged at Rae's heart.
"Uh, Rae, there's a battle going on," Lizard called hesitantly.
Ignoring the warning, Rae secured her weapons to Lizard and approached the tree. She reached out, connecting her neural queue to its bark.
Closing her eyes, Rae began to sing, a prayer to the Great Mother for guidance and strength. The tree's anguish flooded her mind—a desperate struggle to survive. Rae focused, channeling her energy into the tree, envisioning the life force of Pandora flowing through her and into the ancient giant.
An overwhelming presence engulfed her. It felt as though Mother Nature herself was responding, infusing the tree with vitality. Yet, with every passing second, Rae felt her strength wane. Her vision blurred, and exhaustion crept over her like a shadow. She couldn't stop now. The tree needed her.
"You have to stop, Rae! Stop now!" Lizard's voice screamed through their connection, but it felt distant—drowned by the growing weakness.
As she continued to sing, her legs buckled, and her body swayed. The sounds of the battle faded into a faraway hum.
Just before the world went dark, she caught a glimpse of icy blue eyes burning with fury.
And then, she fell.