Only when a straggler from a cloud of pestilence landed upon his shoulder did Jake stir from sleep. He was cradled under one of the shielding walls of his rescuer's red crest, it being of such scale and angle that shade could always be found, provided a willingness to stir every hour to relocate to it. Jake wasn't annoyed by lost sleep when he slapped the insect—the sun had been cooking him dry—he had just been too exhausted to get up. It forced him into a stretch with the quintessential unstiffening of his neck, then afterwards, a long stare at his palm, which made the connection that pestilence should not exist this far out at sea. Was land close by? He invoked his senses to defog his mind. He smelt water, heard waves, saw the open ocean, and felt a gentle breeze—a gentle breeze as opposed to a high wind. So, they had stopped moving. But with no land in sight, why the pit stop? Jake tapped the hood of his ride like he would the engine of a stalled car.

The whale didn't respond.

What's going on?

Beginning to worry, the seafarer ventured down the rugged hind, his Na'vi ears not picking up any acoustics of bodily function, so he bent low near the blowhole with a quivering gulp that something was deeply wrong. He made the mistake of staring directly into the cavity when he thought he heard a gurgling.

Jake received the power wash rinsing of his life.

He fell over gasping, now completely alive and snorting brine from his nose; that was the worst "up and at 'em" he had ever received, and he'd been through boot.

Did you do that on purpose?

Whatever the intention, the Marine surmised his guy was taking a breather from the trip, as there was seemingly no other reason for the stop. He would be smart about it, though, and take the opportunity to shimmy down into the water for a relief.

That's when Jake saw her.

It began with doubtful blinks upon what he assumed had to be nothing more than a clump of seaweed clinging to a measly branch, but the longer he processed the shape, the more it transmogrified from ocean growth into a living, breathing person, if barely; for she was so unmoving from exhaustion it was easy to mistake her otherwise. Then, the purpose for the stall suddenly became clear, as if the whale had been waiting for him to notice before pulling towards the girl. The gyrene was ready to dive in and perform a rescue when his living raft listed, undoing his progress by sliding him back. The whale followed up with two shots from his blowhole; it was apparent he was behesting his passenger to watch rather than act, so Sully did.

At first, the leviathan didn't seem capable of executing such a delicate manoeuvre—of bringing close its marine hand and gliding it over the fair head with such gentility that it broke the maiden from her sleep like a knight's kiss, but did it, this leviathan did; and Jake witnessed all of it.

With the offered hand placed before her, the siren made the exhaustive effort of untangling from her clump of weeds to board the fin; but here, she collapsed in an asthmatic fit, coughing up a mix of seawater and drool over her bent arm. Jake could hardly see her face behind her veil of thick curly hair, but by her graceful form, draped in tight-fitting trappings of algae and seashell fibres, she was mesmerizing, for she looked so unlike any Na'vi he knew. Her skin was an exotic Tiffany Blue; and her tail—which should've been tipped with hair—was naked and tough, flattened like a paddle. She was so small, too, that he was astounded she had any life left after being adrift in the open ocean and exposed to the elements.

Upon sensing she wasn't alone, her pinning turquoise eyes immediately shot up at Jake, who was still aloft on the leviathan's back, and he beheld a face so beautiful it almost rivalled his wife's; he had an explanation for her petiteness now—the girl couldn't have been any older than fifteen. And the sight of her stricken with fear and fatigue finally pushed Jake out of his own shock and into fathering mode. His brows softened, and his hands gently raised to assure her not to be frightened. She cautiously sat up, not granting him any view of her back as she faced off the stranger with a healthy distrust. Though weak, her eyes bespoke a staunch willingness to fight. The Marine knew to be careful, for like him, if she made any more sudden movements, she would faint from exhaustion. The sorry sight of her wan lips prompted him to toss her his canteen, albeit mindfully. Very little was left, but it was something he could give her. Instinctively, she made to react but was slow to the draw, arm stalled at knife-grab as she eyed the black curiosity. Keeping Jake steady in her peripheral vision, she plucked it up and turned the thing around in her hand, then fully looked at him for an explanation, so he motioned unscrewing the cap and drinking. When her fingers drifted towards the lip, Jake affirmed with a nod she was understanding him. One turn and the cap popped off unexpectedly, falling beneath the waves. It was lost for good, but Jake didn't care, so long as she got the water she needed. The girl was still skeptical as she scented the rim, but upon realizing what it contained, she immediately cured her dry mouth.

Her stranger was a friend.

"Ngayah tupeh luh?"

Hearing her speak shouldn't have surprised him, but it did. Her accent was singular, sing-songy, with an extra emphasis on breathy consonants. A bit unintelligible, but Jake could assess she was asking his name. Unfortunately, he could not reply. Not wanting to be rude, he broke eye contact and stared at his hands, trying to brainstorm what he could do instead. He decided to join his thumbs together, with palms out, and push them forward, remembering the sign name Kiri had given him. She echoed the movements, to his delight, and he nodded emphatically while pointing to himself.

After getting a name and a peace offering of water, her shoulders relaxed. She squatted on her toes and pressed her heart while arching her brows for emphasis. She then swam her right hand like it were riding a wave, finishing the silent performance by balling it into a fist.

He copied it, doubtful if his execution was correct, but she approved his action with such a warm smile that it was forever imprinted on Jake's memory.

Once more, she repeated her sign, then laid a palm across her chest and spoke. "Tsireya."

Nice to meet you, Tsireya. But all the girl heard was the ocean as Jake smiled his sentiment. Sensing now was a good time, he beckoned Tsireya aboard. The damsel had her last bout of hesitancy; but, eventually, she lifted one slim foot before the other and approached the weathered castaway, neither knowing the other beyond a name but establishing trust when she set her webless fingers into his ready palm. She was as light as his own daughter, her demeanour as sweet, and eyes also filled with that magic of youth he always knew Kiri for. Yet, there was something about him that must've equally captivated, as she also stood gazing at him in silent retrospection.

"I see you." Her fingers drifted away from her brow.

"I see you," he replied in kind. She was beginning to wobble, but Jake prevented the fall. Tsireya could feel in his grip that he, too, was also lacking in strength, so together, they helped the other walk to the bow, where Jake sat her down under the shade of the armoured-plated crest.

For a while, she was more focused on the leviathan as her hand floated over the crown in admiration. The deft way her fingers fastly moved and tapped the skin reminded the veteran of tactile sign language, but his nugatory observation was interrupted by a new unfolding—his body befalling to shadow; he spun around to a colossal tail eclipsing the sun, runoff cascading from its four giant flukes before they whipped down to crack the ocean like a drum—the ride had resumed.

Sully was astonished and looked to Tsireya, who was calmly watching the horizon they were now blazing. There was no way she just told the whale to move. Shaking his head, he came over and loudly patted the hide to gain her attention, then pointed to the tail end with questioning eyebrows.

She cocked her head. |"Hare you silven in ta mouta?"|

His ears lurched forward; this time, it was genuinely impossible for him to understand her. From the looks of it, he had underestimated the uniqueness of the oceanic dialect; he just hoped he wouldn't take three months to learn this one too.

Reading the tells in Jake's body language, the proficient pointed to him once more and made a fist over her mouth with a questioning look on her face: she was asking him if he was mute, but his reply did not track. "Are you fluent in sign?" his fingers worked.

It was evident by the way her brows twisted that she had no understanding of his dialect, either. |"Yaoh spena may hayno finay talu lu, Avatarh."|

That one breathy word almost knocked him back. Hold on, what did you just call me? You know what an avatar is? How? It was incredibly frustrating for Jake that he couldn't vocalize a single one of those questions. His expressions were wild, but his mouth remained static; only the slightest twitch near the corner was the extent of his ability, making for a curious sight that his companion took note of.

|"Yourah mouta…"| she voiced with concern, stressing a finger at his lips.

Jake quickly hid his mouth upon realizing how unpresentable he must've looked. He wiggled his fingers under his chin to let her know it was not an issue, but she didn't see it that way; in fact, the way she scrutinized him made Jake think she was diagnosing his condition. He wiggled his fingers again, more sternly this time, then gestured her to rest, ending the conversation by backing away in steps; the man wasn't about to reveal his worst secret.

Tsireya watched him depart as he ducked behind the crest and out of her view, her creased forehead—a reaction to his strange behaviour. Eventually, she relented to retreat herself by curling under the opposite crest.

Meanwhile, hidden from sight and abstaining from sleep, the Marine waited until he had the audio confirmation of Tsireya's humble snoring before relaxing himself. While he was also drowsy, her presence denied his brain from fainting. His only objective now was to remain on guard for his passenger's sake.

After a long and overly hot day, the sun drifted towards the sea for a well-earned bath. Stretches of light too glorious to be witnessed full on bounced off the mirror finish of Pandora's vast oceans. Jake was baptized in red and outlined in orange as he watched the day die.

Tsireya was still asleep and, from what he saw, not about to wake anytime soon. With night approaching, it seemed unlikely their ride would stop somewhere, where they could camp and refuel, yet hunger was a need both would soon have to take care of, so the hunter went to work. Occasionally, dark blurs in the water loitered around the shelter of his escort but never within reach for Jake to grab, but there was also the odd scavenger "bird" that more resembled a fluorescent-coloured pterodactyl, gliding overhead.

They look good eating.

Only someone as hungry as Jake would look upon those gangly, squawking creatures circling above and have such a thought. Unfortunately for him, but not for them, he was without means.

Or am I?

A grin manifested as he reached for his spearhead. Crawling quietly on all fours with his sight locked on one of the beasts, he moved in closer, keeping the weapon out of view; and when he was confident he could not achieve a better vantage, Jake sat on his toes and brought up the spearhead. A miss would cost him his only tool, but with the payoff of a meal, a gamble worth taking. Priming the shaft over his shoulder, he aimed at the agile flyer. Jake tottered from dizziness, but he forced himself right again and trusted he had lived on Pandora long enough to make the shot.

In a flash, the spearhead was rotating like a copter blade towards the selected target. It zipped under their talons, startling the whole flock, which was only three, and the tool was lost to sea.

"…Muh…it!"

Jake's outburst woke Tsireya, and she bolted up to see him smacking his leg in anger. He waved his hands, then directed her to the would-be meals flying off and then to his stomach. Tsireya understood right away what he was trying to say and stood up. Jake didn't want her to, thinking she was overdoing it, but the nap restored more of her vitality than he betted on. She held out her palm, dipped two fingers onto it, then brought them to her mouth while arching her brows in question.

She's asking if I'm hungry?

Jake shook his head. He was hungry, but he wanted to explain that he was hunting for her sake. Tsireya put tension in her hands, palms facing the ground, and bobbed them firmly twice with an expression to match. The Marine could always recognize when someone was giving an order to stay put. Tsireya then walked to the edge in a peculiar fashion, streaking and tapping her toes along the hind; Jake was trailing her feet with a brow scrunch when the whale suddenly stopped, and, like that, Tsireya swan-dived into the ocean. He scrambled in reaction, not wanting to lose sight of her, but the fast movement caused his vision to lapse. When sight returned to him, and with a better hold on his spinning mind, he waited and waited and waited for her to reemerge. Jake was seized with fear.

Oh my god! What was she thinking? The poor kid might be drowning!

Disregarding his own frailty, Sully dove into action. The sharp sensation of water rushing over his head stunned his brain—it throbbed like every neuron was firing off at once—but the Marine ignored it to keep searching. He swung his head in every direction, trying to find her, but he could not, and his very attempt at seeking was too much. Jake's body began to seize up. The pain was beyond anything he had endured thus far. His limbs flailed until they could flail no more, and he sunk towards the abyss.

The drowning man shot open his eyes. After clearing his vision with rapid shuttering, Jake stared up at his palms as his back felt the coriaceous surface of a whale's fin.

How did I get back here?

Rubbing his shoulder was Tsireya; she was crouched next to him and looked like she was coming down from a fright herself. He had zero memory as to how he went from sinking to here; the only explanation he knew of, having gone through it enough times already, was that he had lost consciousness, again.

Did she see anything? Jake didn't know for sure but assumed she hadn't just to ease his mind; he carefully brought himself upright, using his chill expression to ward off her concern. Her eyes didn't believe him.

Why's she glaring at me like that?

Tsireya was conflicted in the face when she turned to climb up the xenowhale, but before she planted the first step, she whipped back around—forcing Jake to retreat his own foot—and repeated, with distress, the "stay put" command she had just given him, voicing a displeasurable word at his misconduct.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," his hands apologized. I thought you were in trouble.

She was visibly mulling it over as to whether or not to let him off the hook. Fortunately for his sake, she did.

Jake discreetly sighed his relief; however, he didn't expect Tsireya to then take him by the hand to assist him forward. On instinct, he retracted, showing he was able-bodied enough to not require any more help, but what followed was a stalemate; she wasn't about to go first and neither was he, so taking advantage of his male physique, Jake used his longer arm to spin her forward and nudge her up. Only when Tsireya was standing safely on the creature's leathery back did he climb up too. Sully was highly pleased with himself for having accomplished the scaling by his own strength, so he was not expecting a wet slap to the face as his prize. The man nearly teetered into the drink, fumbling to catch the object Tsireya had thrown at him. When he looked down in his hands, he was shocked and impressed to discover a fish.

Hey, when did you hook this?

His genuine admiration worked to dispel Tsireya's anger, and she came over to demurely take it back so as to begin prep work. He tailed her steps to where she laid the fish down and even kneeled in tandem to observe whatever it was the fisherwoman was about to do. "Ripìì," she said, after noticing his interest. The fish had six eyes, an eel-like body, and a translucent tube running from its belly with a suction cup at the end. She slipped two fingers under one of its gills and held it up for him to see. |"Tey'hah live oonta beyhi unta tulkoon."|

Ye-up. Ye-up. Got all that.

She flattened her left hand and brought her right swimming down under it, demonstrating how she plucked the specimen from the xenowhale's underside.

So it's like a remora, Jake realized.

Utilizing the tip of her knife, she went to work popping out one of the ripìì's eyes; it wobbled in her cupped hand like a marble when she inexplicably offered it to Jake—he dreaded the implications. Acknowledging he was too inexperienced to understand, Tsireya took the eye, brought it to her lips, and made a sucking motion before offering it again.

It still didn't look appetizing.

Regardless, the man who had assimilated once before accepted the organ. He smacked open the operating side of his mouth and sucked the eye, tasting fresh water in the process.

"Hey, that's not too bad," he wanted to tell Tsireya, who was busy scooping out another. She balanced it between her puckered lips, not sacrificing her hands as she finished the job of portioning the fish meat between herself and her fellow passenger. A problem arose when the man saw the disparity in how she had divided the rations in his favour, so he tried to correct it by nudging his share back to her.

|"Yourah ov mal an ner mo. I oh ant."|

Partly because he didn't understand her, he tried again, so Tsireya employed sign, making it very, very clear to him that being male meant he needed a larger helping. Her gesticulations were explicit, as was her understanding of male anatomy, which she had to resort to; so Jake yielded with a blush.

Rigil Kentura was done for the day and passed the baton of illuminating the world to his brother, Polyphemus. The bioluminescence of Jake, Tsireya, and their aquatic taxi began to bloom, serving in lieu of candlelights as the two passengers enjoyed their dinner. For music, they had the waters coming in to lap against their escort and the occasional ethereal echo of his hums. Their meal, despite being uncooked, was edible, if a tad bitter. Jake wanted to exchange with his companion but knew that, even if he did have use of his voice, he would just crack a corny dad joke.

When dinner was over, Tsireya took the remaining cartilage and ceremoniously submerged it into the waters while speaking words Jake suspected was a prayer after hearing something that sounded like "Eywa."

So these Na'vi recite one after eating their kill and not before. Guess that makes sense. You can't talk underwater.

She returned and stood confidently before him, saying, |"Issua tun to ress. Isill wash urn eare."|

Falling her hand down her face while shutting her eyes, Jake ascertained she was telling him to sleep. He shook his head while rubbing the bottom of his eye to say he wasn't tired, but all the action did was draw attention to his dark bags.

She did not accept his answer and directed him again, this time moving in with the threat of force.

Jake cast up his palms. Okay, okay. I get the message.

Under a set of burning eyes, he moved to the crown and found a pleasant enough spot to curl up against while also hiding his injury. The spray of the ocean coated his brow as he protected the rest of his face in the crease of his arm, but he was too tired to sleep. His mind had so many more important things to dwell on, like keeping watch or worrying about tomorrow, that outweighed thoughts of rest. As he let his body relax into a lying position, which he formed to appease Tsireya, he heard, over the gentle waves, the beginning intonations of a doleful folksong: the siren sought to lull him into the dream world with a voice just as ethereal, her melodic verses: a doorway to the divine. It didn't matter to Jake that the words were indecipherable; he understood by the way Tsireya crooned them, letting certain words rise, fall, and drag out, that she was stalling—lingering on a memory that was far too short. If he thought to move, though he wouldn't, for it risked interrupting her delicate song, he would have had his affirmation from the single glint descending off her chin.