Neteyam was eager to get started, but he knew he had to contain his enthusiasm – after his earlier hostility, he couldn't seem too keen to help. If the humans became suspicious of him, he wouldn't get anywhere. It was probably best to wait until Bush approached him again, so he let a couple of days go by without mentioning the caves.

To fill the time, he took Nguyen up on some of her offers of things to make him more comfortable. He didn't really want any of these, but accepting them would make it seem like he was warming up to his captors. To start, he chose a couple of posters to decorate his room. Some of these were pictures of familiar sights in Omatikaya territory, but since Bush had said his family was last seen in the eastern archipelago, he took one that featured that landscape, too. It was a very strange-looking place to Neteyam's eyes, all shining sky, bright sand, and glittering water, very exposed when compared to the comfortable density of the jungle. He wondered why Mother and Dad had chosen that place, and how they felt about it.

He also picked out some new clothes. The ones the Sky People had provided for him were very basic, a white shirt and tan-coloured trousers that fit fairly tight. When Nguyen offered him the use of a fabricator to make some new ones, Neteyam chose vivid blues, greens, and golds that reminded him of home, and looser items that didn't cling to his skin and bunch up at his joints. He felt more free to move in these, even if they were more likely to catch on things. Then he asked to see Rosita, the woman from the barber's, again. She'd offered to put beads in his hair. Neteyam asked her for some, and strung them into a few simple necklaces and bracelets.

The annoying part was that Nguyen was right – doing these things actually did make him feel more comfortable. He still didn't that alien face in the mirror, but being able to dress this new body in items he had chosen made it look and feel a lot more like his. He found himself standing up straighter and taking longer strides, moving as if he belonged here.

The waiting also gave him time to fiddle with his cave map. It had to be bad, but it had to be plausible.

"I must say, Neteyam," Nguyen remarked over lunch one day, "you're doing much better lately. You look a lot more confident."

"I decided that if Dad could get used to his avatar, I could get used to this," Neteyam told her.

That seemed to please her. "So you have a deeper understanding of what things were like for him at that time," she said. "How's the phantom pain? Are you taking your medicine?"

Neteyam had found that the best remedy for the pain was just not thinking about it, so when Nguyen brought it up, he felt an immediate twinge in the tail he no longer had. At least with the pills, he hadn't been awakened in the middle of the night again. "It's not gone, but it's better."

"I'm afraid things like that seldom go away completely," she said, "but I'm glad we're able to manage it. Listen, Neteyam: I know your fall from the climbing wall upset you. Would you like to try it again? I'm sure you could do much better now that you're more used to your body... and with the proper safety gear, of course."

Neteyam had a mouthful of sweet and sour chicken, and that suggestion made him stop mid-chew. Was she right? Could he do the climb properly now that he'd had some time to figure out how long his limbs were? When he tried to picture himself trying, however, that memory of falling flashed in front of his eyes again. What if he couldn't do it? What if he only cemented his earlier failure? Things like climbing had always come easy to Neteyam. What if that was no longer the case?

He couldn't think like that – not least because, if his plan worked, he might have to do a lot of climbing. It would be best if he knew for certain he was capable.

"I'll tr... I'll do it," he said. That was one of the things dad sometimes said: do, or do not. There is no try.

They finished their lunch, turned in their plates and utensils, and headed for the recreation centre. Nguyen was in a good mood, talking cheerfully on the way.

"You're not the only one who seems happier," she remarked. "I saw Emily Bohan this morning, and her colleagues agree she's been much more cooperative. I don't know what you two said while I was chasing Colonel Quaritch, but it seems to have done wonders."

"Did she apologize to the guy she threw off the balcony?" Neteyam asked.

Nguyen blinked. "Um... not that I've heard. Who told you about that?"

"She did. You were there," Neteyam reminded her.

"Oh. Oh, yes, that's right. Sorry." She sighed. "I'm just so tired of nobody keeping anything private around here."

They arrived in the hallway outside the climbing wall. Neteyam put a hand on the window and watched through the glass for a moment as people clambered to the top and were then let gently down on ropes. His insides clenched and he remembered again feeling the impact, the jolt through his bones, the air rushing out of his lungs. He thought of other things he'd climbed in his life – cliffs, trees, the floating mountains, that one bull sturmbeest that just wouldn't stay down. A fall from any of those could heave killed him in an instant, and yet he'd never been remotely frightened. He'd just done it. Now here he was, looking at this wall only a few times taller than one of the People, which he would climb while hanging from a rope just in case, and he was terrified.

His parents weren't here, but what would Nguyen say if he failed again? She'd said she was sure he could do better now. What if he couldn't? Would she realize he wasn't really settling in here, that it was all an act?

She noticed his hesitation. "If you feel like you're not ready..."

"No," Neteyam said firmly. "I can do it." He took a deep breath, puffing out his cheeks as he let it out again. Do or do not. There is no try.

Nguyen gave him an encouraging smile, then turned serious again as her watch beeped. She raised to her ear. "One moment, Neteyam. Yes, this is Dr. Nguyen."

As before, Neteyam could hear only what sounded like whispering from the device. Even that gave him a prick of hope, though. Maybe he wouldn't have to make himself try the climbing wall today. Maybe Bohan wanted to talk to him again. Maybe they could distract Nguyen long enough that he could see what the recom thought of his escape plan...

"Right now?" asked Nguyen.

The other person spoke again.

"All right," Nguyen decided reluctantly. "We're at the recreation centre, outside the climbing wall. We'll wait for you." She turned off the connection, and told Neteyam, "General Bush wants to talk to you. He's on this way."

Neteyam nodded, outwardly calm while inside he felt like he was vibrating, as if he were preparing for a hunt or a battle. Bush was even better than Bohan. Bush meant he could finally start putting his plan into motion... or at least, he hoped so. What if that opportunity were actually about to be snatched away? What if Bush wanted to tell Neteyam that they'd located and recovered the explosives without help? He would have to start all over.

Whatever the General wanted, it must have been important, because it was only a few minutes before he walked into the room. Bush looked surprised by Neteyam's changed appearance but said nothing about it – he just led him to a row of benches that overlooked the swimming pool, and they sat down there. People in the water were going back and forth, over and over, without actually getting anywhere. Neteyam felt like he'd spent his time here doing exactly that.

Bush didn't bother with a greeting. "Neteyam," he said, "have you thought any more about that map of the caverns?"

Neteyam was suddenly glad he didn't have a tail or mobile ears anymore. He doubted he could have stopped them from betraying his excitement. "A bit," he replied, as calm as he could with his heart pounding against his ribs. "Did something happen?"

"There was a bomb planted on one of our aqueducts this morning," Bush replied.

The first thing Neteyam felt at hearing that was a deep, smouldering sense of satisfaction, like a hot coal in his chest. Of course there were some among the People who knew how to use the stolen explosive as a weapon, and Bush wasn't actually foolish enough to assume there weren't. Neteyam couldn't show that, though. He forced his face to remain impassive, and nodded.

"We managed to defuse it," Bush said, "but we need those explosives back before somebody gets hurt. Do you think you can draw us taht map?"

"I can try," said Neteyam. Do or do not. This was gonna be a do not.

"Good lad." Bush patted him on the back. "I'll give you the afternoon to work on that. Doc!" He beckoned to Nguyen, who'd been standing a few feet away with her back turned to give them the privacy she complained nobody got. "Can we get him in conference room six at nineteen-thirty?"

"As long as he's ready by then," Nguyen replied. "That's up to him."

"I'll be ready," Neteyam promised. Maybe Eywa could still hear him. Maybe he could really pull this off.

There was no attempt at the climbing wall that afternoon. Neteyam went back to his room and sat on the floor under his new posters, obsessively checking and re-checking his very bad map. There was a lot to account for. The first few caverns, the ones the Sky People had almost certainly already explored, had to be accurate... but not in a way that made the rest look shoddy by comparison. There had to be a logic to the way he represented things, or they would know he was doing it badly on purpose. Most importantly, it had to give the idea that Neteyam did know the caves very well, he was just terrible at drawing maps.

Being bad at basketball or climbing when he didn't want to be felt awful. Being bad at maps on purpose felt great.

He was still working on it when Nguyen came and collected him for dinner, and then he took the tablet with him and continued to fiddle with it. Later he would realize he couldn't even remember what it was they'd eaten.

"You're quite a perfectionist, aren't you?" Nguyen asked.

"If something's done right the first time, you never need to do it again," said Neteyam. That was one of his grandmother's pieces of wisdom. He hoped it didn't sound too sarcastic, as he sat here doing the exact opposite, though in a way he hoped she would have approved of.

"That's one way to look at it," said Nguyen, "but sometimes doing a thing badly is better than doing nothing at all. It's better to have a poorly-made patch than a hole in your shirt."

"That's a completely different situation," Neteyam told her. "I'm trying to work on this."

"Sorry," she said immediately. "I'll let you concentrate."

She remained quiet for the rest of the meal, which was unexpected but nice. Neteyam continued tinkering with the map right up until the time came to meet with Bush, wanting to get it as close to perfect as he felt it could possibly be. His goal was that they would trust the map enough to try it, but after a couple of forays into the caves they would be confused and would come back and ask him to act as a guide in person. Once he was out of this underground compound, with his feet on real ground and breathing the free air, it would be easy to lose a search party in the dark and twisting passages. Then he'd be free, and could take the next steps to eventually reunite with his family.

What would happen after that? What would he say to them? How would they react to what he'd become? He didn't want to think too hard about it. He'd deal with it when the time came.

Humans liked to divide things into pieces and organize them carefully, and time was no different. Nineteen-thirty arrived, and Nguyen showed Neteyam the way to the conference room Bush had requested. It was in a part of the installation he hadn't visited before, so he paid attention as they walked, in case he needed to find his way back someday. On the first day the interior of Site Nine had seemed featureless, but now he was starting to recognize section numbers and the occasional decoration that could tell him where things were and which direction he was headed.

The room was fairly large, with a long, rectangular table running down the middle of it and pictures of strange worlds on the wall... a blue and green one that might have been Earth, but also a rusty orange one, and one girdled by a wide, flat white ring. Despite the many chairs, only four people were present waiting for him.

The first he saw was Quartich, standing at the back and towering over the seated humans, his breathing mask hanging within easy reach around his neck. The second was Bush, who was seated at the far side of the table in between two others: a dark-faced man with a snow-white moustache, and a woman with ringlets of dark brown hair escaping from under her military cap. The table in front of them had a holodisplay that currently projected a giant globe of Pandora, rotating slowly and with clouds sliding across its surface.

"And here they are!" said Bush, getting to his feet. "You both know Dr. Faye Nguyen, and this is her latest project. Neteyam, this is Anjan Chatterjee and Sapphire Collierville. They work for me in the intelligence division." He then turned to his colleagues. "And this is our reverse recombinant, Neteyam."

The man, Chatterjee, looked Neteyam over with a frown. "He's awfully young, isn't he?"

"All the recoms are young," said Bush. "No point in recreating somebody in anything but the prime of life."

"I'm sixteen," said Neteyam.

Chatterjee looked like he'd been slapped. He stood up and glared at Bush. "Sixteen?"

"I'm not the one who sent him into a battle," Bush replied.

"Nobody sent me," Neteyam said proudly. "I chose to go, to rescue my family and friends. That's also why I want to help you find your bombs," he added. "If humans are killed by these explosives, you'll retaliate, and many of the People will die." He hoped that sounded reasonable without making him look foolish.

"Sit down, Anjan," said the woman called Collierville.

Bush ushered Neteyam forward with a hand on his back. "As I was saying, Neteyam says he knows the layout of the caves under the Noro River." He made an effort to pronounce it properly this time. "He doesn't know exactly where the insurgents might have stashed the explosives, of course, but he can give us an idea of what's where. Right, Neteyam?"

"Yes, Sir," Neteyam said.

Chatterjee was scowling, his arms folded over his chest. Collierville sat up straight, her expression carefully neutral. Quaritch looked openly skeptical, possibly because he thought Neteyam would refuse to tell them anything useful, possibly because he thought Neteyam was too dumb to do so. Neteyam himself couldn't tell.

"Do you have it in your tablet?" Bush asked. "You can insert it here, and..."

Neteyam stepped past him and slid the tablet into the slot to connect with the holodisplay. He'd seen this done at Hell's Gate and he new how it worked – as children, he and his siblings had sometimes played games on their machines, though Mother always said there were better things they could be doing than looking at ghosts from another world. She would rather they learn archery and weaving, sing their songs and make themselves toys.

He found his files and brought them up one by one, trying to watch the humans out of the corner of his eye as he did. They were startled by the skill with which he manipulated the images, even though he made a couple of mistakes, opening things in the wrong order and once accidentally bringing up the photograph of Kiri with soldiers around her. Even Chatterjee looked grudgingly impressed, while Collierville leaned forward, intrigued. Quaritch lifted his mask to his face for a couple of breaths and then let it drop again, waiting to see what happened next.

"The cave complex under Kilvanoro is very complex," said Neteyam, "and there are many dangers." He spoke confidently, as if showing them something other than what looked like the scribblings of a child. "The first thing you need to be wary of is the well shaft, here." That was close to the entrance, and they would already know about it. "If you fall down that, you'll go in the water, and current is very strong. There's a ledge on the left that will allow you to pass. You want to stay in the caverns that have glow-roaches on the floors. Any that don't will have snotworms on the ceiling instead, which will drop on you to inject venom." They almost surely knew that, too... telling them things they were already aware of was how he would make them trust him.

"Your English is very good," Collierville remarked.

Neteyam wondered what she'd expected. "My people needed to talk to the humans who stayed at Hell's Gate. Not all of them spoke our language." He rotated the map. "From the top here there are three passageways. The top one is a dead end... oh, by the way, if there aren't any snotworms on the roof of a cavern there will probably be echowasps roosting. They're mostly harmless except the ones that suck blood, but those are more common further north. You won't want to take torches, though. Echowasps are scared of fire, nd if they try to escape in a swarm you might get hurt just because there are thousands of them." He paused a moment, as if trying to remember where he'd left off. "This one is a dead end, anyway. The lower tunnel takes you to the spiral pits. My grandmother said that was dug out by the roots of a hometree, a long time ago..."

He went on, going through routes and chambers in no particular order, dropping back to revisit things he'd talked about before, and layering up maps into a mess. He emphasized dangerous things as much as he could, as if he were trying to discourage them as much or more than he was trying to help.

Neteyam could just imagine what his siblings would think of this presentation. They would immediately know he was up to something, of course... he could imagine Kiri standing there rolling her eyes dramatically, while Lo'ak did his best not to snicker and Tuk, not a fan of long speeches, tried not to nod off to sleep. Mother would probably think he was already telling them too much, and Dad... Dad would probably tell him his plan was reckless, but be proud of him for trying.

The people who were actually present showed a range of reactions. Nguyen sat on the near side of the table with her chair turned around to watch him, and seemed honestly interested. Occasionally she would glance over her shoulder to see what the others thought. Quaritch stood in his corner drumming fingers on his leg and making small noises of disapproval. Bush took notes, which he kept flipping back through and frowning at. Collierville sat with her eyebrows raised, paying attention but saying nothing. Chatterjee leaned his chin on his fist and glared, still more offended by Neteyam's age than anything else. What did Neteyam have to do to prove to these humans that he was an adult?

"This part of the caves would be a terrible place to store something flammable," said Neteyam, "because of the damp. Water drips down from above and wells up from below. It flows out and joins Kilvanoro further downstream, and if the weather's bad it floods entirely. In wet years you'll find charniamorphs growing there, and there are venomous insects that feed on them."

"You're very thorough," Bush observed.

"Neteyam is a perfectionist," Nguyen said, sounding almost proud of him.

"Once I decided I would help you with this, I didn't want you to think I might be leaving things out maliciously," said Neteyam. "My father told me that humans feel the need to destroy everything they see because they don't know which things are dangerous and which aren't. The creatures in the caves don't want to hurt you, they're just doing what they must to survive. They don't deserve to die for that, so I'm telling you about it."

Collierville's eyebrows quirked. "Do they really think like that?" she asked Nguyen.

"They do. I think it's something we could learn more about," Nguyen observed, "especially if we're planning on staying."

Neteyam shuffled the layers of his map, looking for a particular one. They'd been here quite some time, and he was starting to wonder if he'd put just a little too much work into this to make it believable. Maybe he had, because Bush stood up and put out a hand to stop him.

"Neteyam, can you step outside for a moment, please?" he asked. "I need to have a word with my colleagues."

"Yes, Sir," said Neteyam. He took the tablet out of its slot and tucked it under his arm as Neteyam escorted him out of the room. Nobody had told him to take it back, but he wasn't going to leave it, not when it had the pictures of his family on it.

Out in the hallway, they stood and waited. Through the glass door and walls of the room, Neteyam could see Bush, Colliervill, Chatterjee, and Quaritch having an animated discussion, possibly even an argument, but their words were not audible. A touch on his shoulder made Neteyam jump, but it was only Nguyen.

"Sorry, Neteyam," she said. "I can tell you were very proud of that map."

She was right, but not for the reasons she thought. Now he wondered if he'd blown the whole thing.

In the room, Quaritch straightened up to look back at Neteyam. Bush turned, too, and then both leaned back in to continue their conversation. Finally, all four returned to their seats, and Bush motioned for Nguyen and Neteyam to come back in.

"Neteyam," he said, as the entered. "You uh... you put a lot of work into that map, we can tell. Do your people use maps?"

"Only since my father introduced them," Neteyam lied. Most of the time the Omatikaya didn't need maps, because they knew every inch of their territory, but any excursion like an envoy or a scouting party would usually have a simple map of their destination. These were often just scratched in the dirt or on bark, although particularly important ones would be woven into textiles to keep.

"Mmm," said Bush. He glanced at his peers. Chatterjee was still sulking, in protest of the whole project. Collierville shrugged.

It was Quaritch who took over. "I want you in the hangar no later than oh-eight-hundred tomorrow morning," he told Neteyam. "Dress for a hike."

Even without ears to prick up or a tail to lash, Neteyam was sure they all saw the tremor of excitement that ran through him at hearing this instruction. They weren't even going to try it and get lost? They were just going to take them with him right away? He would be out of this place tomorrow?

He fought that down and nodded. "Yes, Sir," he said again.

Quartich came closer and leaned down a little. Don't think you can try anything funny," he growled. "I promised Bush I would keep you in line, and believe me, kid – I keep my promises."

"Yes, Sir," Neteyam repeated.

In the morning he got up early and showered. The sight of his body, all that pinkish-brown and the extra fingers and toes and the unfamiliar build, still gave him a bit of a sick feeling, but he was getting better at ignoring it. He was getting used to this... just as his father, all those years ago, must have gotten used to his avatar until he felt so at home in it that he wanted to live that way for the rest of his life. Neteyam couldn't imagine getting that far, but even shaving was starting to feel a little more normal.

The humans had provided him with clothes for the excursion. There were stiff, dark trousers and a black tank top to go under a green button-down shirt, clothes to let air move around him and to protect him from thorns and branches while moving in the jungle. He rolled up the sleeves and left the buttons undone, tying the shirt in a knot at the front like he'd seen in old pictures of Grace Augustine's avatar.

The shoes were heavy and thick to prevent stepping on anything sharp. Neteyam wouldn't be able to feel the ground through them, but that was another thing that had begun to seem almost normal after walking around on all these smooth indoor floors. There were also pieces of armor for his knees and elbows, and gloves so he wouldn't cut his hands crawling around in caves. The breathing unit they gave him included a light mounted above his face, so he could see where he was going, and there was a hat to tuck his braids under.

The room they'd sent him to for changing his clothes had a mirror in it. When Neteyam looked at his reflection, he found himself staring at a stranger. With the braids and the new clothes, he felt like he'd started to look like Neteyam again. Now there was somebody else... somebody the old Neteyam would have put an arrow in without a second thought. Just another one of the Sky People.

When he stepped out, however, Bush looked very pleased. He patted Neteyam on the shoulder and smiled. "You look like a soldier," he said. "Follow me."

Neteyam's heart was beating hard as they took an elevator up to the very top floor, where the domed cafeteria was. Rather than head in there, however, they went into the outer ring of the facility, which was a series of hangars. These were huge, the biggest room Neteyam had been in so far, and open to the outside air, meaning all the humans in them had to wear breathing devices. The entire place was bristling with vehicles and armaments. Neteyam recognized the large guns the Sky People stationed around the perimeters to shoot down banshees, and there were dozens or hundreds of their flying machines.

What made him do a double-take, however, was a row of banshees roosting on a specially-built ledge down one wall of the giant wedge-shaped room. They were using banshees?

It seemed they were. The animals were wearing saddles and armor that had clearly been made by humans. As he and Bush approached a craft parked in one corner, a recom woman was feeding one of the banshees chunks of meat from a bucket and cooing at it, calling it her beautiful boy. A male came up behind her and clucked his tongue.

"You never talk to me that way," he said with a pout.

"Well, you're not as pretty as he is," the female replied, scratching the banshee's forehead. "Is he, Maverick?"

The banshee lowed and shook its head and neck. It was shifting its saddle to scratch an itch, but Neteyam could see how the female got the impression it was agreeing with her. She laughed and slapped its neck affectionately.

"I'd love to try that," a familiar voice remarked.

Neteyam and Bush rounded the vehicle, and found Bohan there with one foot up on the running board, tying her bootlaces. Her eyes, however, were on the woman petting Maverick.

"You're coming?" Neteyam asked her.

"She sure is," said Quartich. He tossed one final chunk of meat to another banshee, then came to look Neteyam over. "She's your new bestie, isn't she? So if you decide to lead us into a bottomless pit, you'll be taking her, too. You get my meaning?"

He got it.

Quaritch leaned down a little again. "I'll tell you something else, too. A neat little science fact that I bet nobody's let you in on yet. Na'vi bones have all that carbon fibre in them. Makes them very resilient. Human bones aren't like that. If you bend them..." he mimed twisting something in his hands, "they snap like twigs. So you mind yourself."

"Yes, Sir," said Neteyam, letting just a little sarcasm in this time.

"Well, you can cross threaten somebody off your to-do list for the day, can't you?" Bohan asked him cheerfully. "Come on, Neteyam, I don't know about you, but I can't wait to get some fresh air!" She offered him a hand to help him up into the craft, then remembered that he had to wear a breathing mask. "Oh, shit. Sorry."

"It's all right." Neteyam let her lift him, and then she showed him how to use the restraining harness. Outside, Quaritch and Bush had a brief conversation, then Quaritch checked and slung a weapon before going to climb on his banshee. "He has one?"

"Yeah," said Bohan. "I was kinda looking forward to trying that, but only the elites get them. The original twelve and a few more hand-picked by Quaritch. They're risky to catch."

"I know. I had one," said Neteyam. "Her name was Pawk." The word was a name for a musical instrument – his banshee had trumpeted like one. He wondered where she was now.

"What's it like?" Bohan wanted to know. They watched Quaritch make tsaheylu with the creature and fly out the open hangar door. How could he do that? How could he bond with one of Eywa's children, and yet still hate them so much? The female who called hers Maverick also mounted up and flew off, waving to her male friend as she did.

"I could feel her body along with my own," said Neteyam. "Your breathing and heartbeat fall into sync with theirs. You become one creature and fly together."

"Like the dragons of Pern," said Bohan with a dreamy smile.

"What are those?"

"Nothing. Just a story for children." She sat back.

Another recom climbed in to sit next to Bohan, giving Neteyam a sideways look. "This is our guide? He's what, twelve?"

"Sixteen," said Neteyam.

The man cocked his head and frowned, but sat down and did up his harness. Bohan put a hand to her com choker. "We've got Bohan, O'Donnell, and Sully, all present and accounted for," she said.

"Roger," another voice replied. "We're off."

The giant rotors on either side of the craft began to roar. Bohan and O'Donnell put plugs in their ears, and Bohan handed Neteyam a pair of headphones that fit tightly to his head, and the roar of the blades suddenly blinked into silence. The vehicle rocked a bit as it lifted from the ground, and slid forward out of the hangar after the two banshees.

"Hey, Colonel," he heard Bohan say – her voice somehow loud and clear despite everything else being quiet. "Konstopoulos calls her critter Maverick, and I know Thompson's is Drogon because he's a nerd who reads nerd books. Has yours got a name?"

The headphones crackled. "Blackbird," said Quaritch. "Like the plane."

Bohan shook her head. "I figured it'd be something like that."

The ground dropped away below them, and for the first time Neteyam got a look at the outside of Site Nine. It was a giant round structure, most of it buried in the old mining pit, topped with the ring of hangars and the giant cafeteria room with the windows in the roof. All around it was a buffer zone, perhaps a kilometre or so, where the jungle had been cleared away so that anyone approaching would not have any cover. It looked like a giant pimple, Neteyam thought... a scar on the face of the world.

The banshees had been circling overhead, waiting for the craft to join them. Now they fell into formation on each side of it. The whole group oriented themselves, and the flying machine tipped forward a little as it began to accelerated. Neteyam leaned as far as his harness would allow to watch the ground go by underneath them, trying to get the lie of the land. If this were the direction to the caverns below Kilvanoro, then...

... then he did know where Site Nine was. Neteyam and Pawk had flown over the old mining pits repeatedly. Once he had that, his mental map of the Omatikaya territory fell into place. They were technically outside the clan's land, in areas that belonged to neighbours, but those weren't strangers or enemies. Warriors from those peoples had followed Dad as Toruk Makto, and their sons had joined the new battle against the Sky People. If he escaped into this area, he would find allies who...

... no, he wouldn't. They would take one look at him, assume he was an enemy, and kill him, especially if he were dressed like this. He would have to get where he was going without meeting anyone on the way. That was going to be difficult.

First things first. He had to get away from the recoms, and that couldn't happen until they reached the caves. For now, he just had to be patient a little longer.