Note: due to a lot of things happening right now for me, like work, and in the process of moving, my writing has unfortunately taken a setback in priorities. I still plan on finishing the story but at a slower rate. Expect more chapters to come, but (possibly, thankfully?) in smaller doses.


Predator Diorama Part I Chapter XXIX

Somewhere in The Forest

A questioning spot of white light appeared amidst the fleeting darkness, flickering in and out of existence across the fog-laden floor which had hidden away much of the ancient land of Ayram Alusìng. Unlike the orange blades of the sun, the white beam seemed to move with an almost whimsical flourish, mimicking closely to that of a child with a flashlight or a playful animal than the steady grace of Eywa's magenta-lit gaze.

The momentum also did not hinder its erratic, directionless path. It threaded effortlessly between those titan trees, skimmed over moss-covered stones without pause, and winked out of sight whenever it passed over vines dangling like old ropes long forgotten. And yet, there was no discernable logic to its purpose. No apparent concern to call its own. Owing its entire existence beyond the thick canopies that kept the land in secret from the spoil of human eyes.

As the beam passed over the river, it fractured into narrow, silk-like tendrils, each thread freed from the mother light to delve deeper into the forest. The first few strands gingerly tested the darkness, cautiously aware of their own insatiable curiosity tugging them further and further from their source. Venturing too far past the invisible border, however, held consequences for the renegade light. The center-beam would abruptly snap the runaway light, causing them to instantaneously blink out before they could stray beyond the capability of its limitations. Then, in the same instance, would reappear, closer to the main beam, drawn back by the quiet insistence of their origin.

It was perfectly organized. Perfectly synchronized. Artificial.

The filaments of light continued to dart between the trees, probing every nook and cranny they could find. If they encountered a hole in a tree; in the ground, the light would pause, lingering just long enough to illuminate the void before flitting away. If they found slumbering creatures, they performed the same fleeting examination, casting their glow on plants, roots, and stones alike as they passed. To them: nothing was overlooked. Nothing left unexplored. Everything was seen, and what was seen was known. And what was known was carefully catalogued.

But of course, not everything was completely known.

To the east of the main light lay an open patch of land, a natural clearing, untouched but for the overgrowth of ferns that drank greedily from a narrow stream cutting through the Pandoran ground. The ferns' broad, lilac leaves were the only life thriving in the clearing, spread open to absorb as much sunlight as possible while their roots tangled over the rocks, gripping the land for survival. Around the edges of the land was trees standing in crooked rows, as if something had once tried to carve out this space but had done so carelessly, leaving nature to grow back with haphazard defiance. Nothing seemed unusual at first glance. More trees and more trees. Just another quiet, unremarkable clearing.

Yet something stirred beneath the surface, unseen, palpable. It wasn't the stream or the ferns or the jagged rocks scattered across the clearing that held sway over the scene. What drew attention was a pocket of strange, concentrated heat radiating from the center. And now, the light was there, hovering over the ground, investigating the source.

Had it been the heat of the sun collecting here, the light would've sensed it by now. Instead the light moved in a menacing way. The threads clustering towards the center moved erratically, as though they were agitated, searching for something hidden. They then danced wildly, illuminating what wished to remain concealed, an almost restless intelligence guiding their movements.

More, it seemed to whisper, though the light had no voice with which to speak. Only movements.

Suddenly, there was a mechanical click, barely audible, but significant. The threads of light began to spin, spiraling in slow motion, then faster, clockwise, tightening until they merged into a single, concentrated beam. The once-blinding bloom of white light had condensed into a precise, needle-thin ray. It shimmered faintly through the lingering heat haze, its vibrant green almost invisible to the eye, save for the tiny dot it marked on the forest floor—a pinpoint of perfect symmetry, silently questing, as if preparing to strike.

It swept first to the right, then left, zig-zagging through the shadows like a predator searching for prey, until it encountered the deep blue of an outstretched limb. The beam hesitated at first, calculating inside the invisible world of code before jumping upward, tracing the ridges and creases of the skin, where it folded inward over sinew and muscle that molded the skin. Then smoothed out over the harder, more defined lines of the figure's silhouette. Bit by bit, data was being collected, piecing together a puzzle. The figure lacked the adornments typical of the Na'vi—a noticeable absence of the usual beaded jewelry and feathers that spoke of clan pride. No paint smeared across the body, no tribal markings.

The light crept downward. Fingers, it sensed, were tightly curled into a fist, the tension visible even in the faint glow. The chest, broad and steady, rose and fell in rhythm with the figure's breath. It wasn't dead; that much was certain.

Soon, the light found its way over the clavicle, calculating the biacromial width of the shoulders as five feet—an interesting specimen, indeed, but not enough information. The green beam scanned the face, and when it lingered on the closed eyelids, the tall figure stirred.

The light winked out instantly in response.

"Do not move… do not move… do not move…" came the barely audible whisper of Mekanei, the weathered Tipani warrior, squatting beneath the arching root of a massive tree on the edge of the open land. His sharp eyes were trained on the Tsmupxa in the dying of the light while he kept a bow held closely in his hand. If anything were to happen, he was ready.

Beside him, Syura'ewan, the Omatikaya scout, too gripped his bow so tightly that his knuckles turned a dark purple. His gold-within-white eyes shifted nervously between Tsmupxa and the light surrounding their companion. This was terrible! He didn't expect the tawtute to find them. The chaos they created was enough to leave the squirming, pink-skinned animals to lick their wounds. Not react like this.

"They will kill him," Syura'ewan muttered to Mekanei, louder than he intended. The tension in his voice betrayed his barely contained panic. They needed to do something, anything! But before he could speak further, Mekanei's hand shot up in front of his face, a silent command to stay quiet. The older warrior's eyes never wavered from the scene as he glanced over to the Omatikaya.

Syura'ewan's ears flattened against his head, a low growl building in his throat. His lips peeled back, revealing sharp fangs as frustration trickled over into an unbearable anger. He couldn't understand why Mekanei hesitated. How could he stand by and do nothing while their friend was in danger?

"We must stop this," Syura'ewan whispered fiercely, his voice low but charged with urgency. "Or they will kill him."

"Silence. Now." Mekanei's voice was a low growl, his tone sharpened with a tension that dared not be ignored. His eyes then drifted skyward, narrowing as they locked onto the metal beast above, hovering with an unnatural presence. It defied all that was familiar—no wings, no fins, no heart. Only the cold, lifeless underside, streaked with menacing yellow stripes that seemed to mark its soulless existence.

Syura'ewan leaned in closer, his breath hot against Mekanei's ear, his voice thick with desperation. "He. Will. DIE!" The words clawed their way out, a promise of vengeance barely restrained.

In a swift, fluid motion, Mekanei shoved the Omatikaya back into the earth, his hand clamping down over Syura'ewan's mouth, eyes blazing with an irritation that bordered on fury. "If you speak," he whispered, his voice as cold as the metal beast above, "I will cut your throat and silence your spirit forever."

Syura'ewan blinked, momentarily stunned. A Tipani was ready to kill him—for trying to save another Tipani? Were they all like this? The thought compensated the insanity but not enough to suppress the urge inside of Syura'ewan to help. His tail thumped against the loamy earth, mirroring his irritation, a silent reflection of Mekanei's rising tension against him. He could do nothing. Forced to capitulation to Mekanei's threat, Syura'ewan closed his eyes, allowing the Tipani warning to seep in. And with a reluctant push against Mekanei's steady hand, Syura'ewan surrendered.

At least for the time being.

Letting go, Mekanei shifted in his posture to run. He didn't think he needed to as the metal beast was still there, hovering with no light. He was hoping that the metal animal would fail to recognize Tsmupxa as Na'vi but what he didn't expect next was Syura'ewan yelling behind him: "Move! Now!"

Mekanei's eyes narrowed, flashing hateful daggers to the Omatikaya as his instincts kicked in. Without hesitation to hold the older Tipani warrior back, he lunged, tackling Syura'ewan to the ground just as a searing green beam sliced through the air towards them. Blinding cones of white light exploded, scanning frantically across the edges of the clearing. An alarm blared overhead, echoing ominously through the canopy above, shattering whatever semblance of peace remained.

"They're here!" The shout of an RDA soldier rang out in harsh, clipped English, cutting through the still night like thunderclap. The cry of the human was the last thing any of the trio of Na'vi heard before the world erupted into chaos. The sharp crack of explosions followed, rippling through the air with violent force. The once-quiet patch of land was swallowed in violence. Shadows that once kept the Na'vi concealed were now thrown into sharp relief as the searing brilliance of muzzle flashes consumed everything in its path, leaving no refuge for the eyes or the soul to escape unscathed.