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Tsu'tey was teaching his young students how to read the tracks and trails left behind by the creatures of the forest, a skill that came naturally to the Na'vi but was still a challenge for Jake. Jake knew that his fellow humans back at the base considered the Na'vi aliens, as you would any creature inhabiting a separate solar system—but here, in the heart of Pandora, he felt like the true alien. A foreigner in a world where he desperately needed to fit in, and that was a fact he couldn't escape.
Normally, Jake would hang on to the warrior's every word during these teachings, absorbing every nugget of wisdom and tracking techniques he could to gain the respect and trust of the Omaticaya. He knew that time was not on his side; Quaritch had given him a mere five months to learn their ways and to prove himself worthy of becoming one of the People. Nearly a month had already slipped through his fingers, and Jake couldn't help but feel that much of it had been wasted on what he considered pointless activities if the situation were different.
Just... seriously. How much bow training, pa'li riding, and forest expeditions did one need to undergo to become truly "one of the people"?
But today his mind was elsewhere, preoccupied with worries about how to convince Grace to let him spend more time in his avatar body. It had been a couple of weeks since his last health scare, something that still haunted him at random times. He vividly remembered those endless hours spent in the avatar link, pushing himself to the limits in pursuit of acceptance among the Na'vi—of Tsu'tey's acceptance. But the cost had been steep. The aftermath had been nothing short of a nightmare, and it had left him in a state that was not pretty for the tender-hearted. He had been catatonic and knocked out for two long days, and when he did finally regain consciousness, it was accompanied by endless bouts of vomiting.
Both Grace and Tsu'tey had been deeply worried about his health since that last scare, but Tsu'tey, in his own way, had more or less backed off. Perhaps he understood that pushing Jake too hard could lead to more harm than good, and he was content with trusting that Jake would stick to the new and less strenuous training regimen he had imposed. Grace, on the other hand, continued to hound him about spending less time within the link. He knew she meant well, but her constant vigilance was becoming suffocating.
Jake understood their concerns; he really did. Spending ample time in the avatar link had nearly cost him his health before, but he also knew that spending more time in the link was crucial for his mission—euphoria and escape from the harsh reality of his crippled human form aside. That meant more time to gain their trust, but his overindulgence in the link was what had spiraled his health downward in the first place.
It was a dark spiral he couldn't afford to revisit, and it was a delicate balance he needed to maintain.
Lost in his thoughts, Jake didn't realize how much he had distanced himself from the group until Tsu'tey's sharp eyes noticed his lack of attention. He had been absentmindedly nodding at Tsu'tey's words, trying to keep up appearances, but perhaps he wasn't doing as well as he hoped (he couldn't afford to appear disinterested or distracted in front of the Na'vi, but now he would be paying the price).
Tsu'tey paused in his explanations to his two students and turned his attention to Jake. "Sully," he called in a measured tone. "It seems your focus has waned in recent days. Are you truly committed to learning our ways, or have you become complacent? Should I be concerned?"
Jake blinked and quickly refocused his attention on Tsu'tey, aware that his lapse had not gone unnoticed. "Erm, no—I mean, I'm committed," he replied earnestly. "I am—I'm just... thinking about the lessons and all. Sorry." He dipped his head.
Tsu'tey raised an eyebrow, a silent but stern signal that he expected more from Jake at this point in his training. "Do not be distracted. In this world, distraction can lead to death," and Jake knew that wouldn't be the end of it. With a curious glance, Tsu'tey decided to test Jake, not out of spite but out of a genuine need to assess his progress. After all, he was his karyu. He regarded him for a moment. "Tracking requires focus, Jake. If you are not fully present, you will miss important signs." Jake nodded, feeling a pang of guilt for not paying attention. He had to make a conscious effort to shake off his worries and concentrate on the task at hand. "Let us see if you can put what you have learned to practical use, then."
His heart skipped a beat. A test? He hoped it would be easy because the thought of failing this test in front of Tsu'tey and the others was daunting. As he glanced around, he couldn't help but notice Saeyla stifling a snicker. She had always been quick to mock his struggles, and today was no different.
(Their relationship still had a bit to work on, but it was getting there).
Meanwhile, Ka'ani stood nearby. He seemed almost hopeful for Jake.
Tsu'tey gestured to the ground where a set of tracks were barely visible in the soft earth. "Look here," he said, crouching down to examine the markings. "This is the trail of a yerik—what you call a hexapede. Can you tell which direction it went?"
Jake squatted beside Tsu'tey, studying the tracks with a furrowed brow. He tried to remember the lessons Tsu'tey had given him about the hexapede's movements, looking for subtle disturbances in the underbrush, and noting the faint scent markers left by the creature. "It looks like it's heading east—" he hesitated for a moment "—I mean, that way." He ventured while pointing in the general direction, uncertain.
Although his expression remained neutral, Tsu'tey nodded approvingly. "Good. Now, let us see if you can track it."
He nodded, swallowing the apprehension. He took a deep breath and observed the forest floor, searching for any further telltale signs of the hexapede's passage. He tried to mimic Tsu'tey's calm focus, tracing the hexapede's path through the forest, before following the faint trail.
Tsu'tey didn't follow right away, sparing a moment to glance back at his Ka'ani and Saeyla. The curiosity was evident in their eyes, the urge to step in (especially Ka'ani's) and assist Jake in his task. With a stern and authoritative tone, Tsu'tey warned them in the Na'vi language, "Patience, young ones. This is Jake Sully's test, and he must find the hexapede on his own. Do not interfere. Let Jake prove himself."
Jake continued to follow the trail, his senses fully attuned to the environment around him. The hexapede's tracks were elusive, disappearing and reappearing as they wound their way through the thick underbrush. The imprints in the soil were not always easy to discern, but he was slowly getting the hang of it, learning to distinguish between fresh tracks and old ones. But as he followed the trail deeper into the forest, he came across another set of tracks that appeared nearly identical to those of the hexapede. They had the same general shape and size, and it was easy for an inexperienced eye to mistake them.
Tsu'tey noticed this almost immediately, his sharp eyes picking up the subtle differences. However, he chose not to intervene. He reminded Ka'ani and Saeyla to not say anything either.
The trail was convincing, and Jake couldn't discern the subtle nuances that marked the difference. So he pressed on, following the trail deeper into the forest.
As minutes turned into a couple of hours, Jake's frustration began to mount. The trail seemed to lead him in circles, and the hexapede remained elusive. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was off, but he couldn't put his finger on it. It wasn't until he rounded a dense thicket that he finally realized his mistake.
Standing before him, partially hidden by the foliage, was... Jake wasn't sure what it was.
"That's not a yerik, is it?" he muttered, more as a comment to himself than a question, his brow furrowing in perplexity.
Tsu'tey regarded the creature before them, which indeed wasn't the typical hexapede. Its body shape and markings were different from what Jake had been led to believe a hexapede should look like. His expression remained stern, but there was a hint of amusement in his eyes as he replied, "It is a yerik, but not the one you were originally tracking. We call it an eampin yerik."
Jake's shoulders slumped in realization, and he let out a sigh of frustration. He had followed the wrong trail, mistakenly pursuing its cousin. It was a setback, and he couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment.
Tsu'tey, however, was quick to offer a different perspective.
"Remember, Jake," Tsu'tey continued, his tone measured but encouraging, "in our world, success is often found in learning from our mistakes. You have proven that you can track, even if it was the wrong creature. This is not a complete loss. You now know the signs of this yerik as well. Learn from this experience, and you will become a better tracker."
Jake nodded, his disappointment beginning to wane. Jake turned his attention to the two ay numeyu. Ka'ani's eyes were alight with excitement, and his face beamed with pride. He offered Ka'ani a grateful nod. Though, when he glanced at Saeyla, he found her response to be more reserved. She simply offered him a nod of acknowledgment before turning and walking away.
Moments later, Tsu'tey announced that their training for the day had come to an end. The sun was beginning to dip below the lush horizon, casting long shadows through the dense forest. Tsu'tey turned to Jake with a nod of approval. "You have done well today, Jake Sully. Let us return to Kelutral, now." They began their journey back through the forest, retracing their steps while Tsu'tey led the way and Jake stayed in the back. The sounds of the natural world surrounded them—birdsong, the rustling of leaves, and the distant calls of wildlife. It was peaceful yet... something felt amiss.
An unsettling tension hung in the air.
Jake began to notice a faint rumble in the distance—a low, mechanical sound that grew louder with each passing moment. Tsu'tey noticed it too, exchanging curious glances with him. The noise grew louder and more pronounced the closer they drew, the noise like nails on a chalkboard that his face contorted with discomfort, and it was only when they reached the crest of a hill that Jake realized what was happening. What it was.
Before them lay an RDA drilling site.
Tsu'tey raised a hand, signaling for everyone to stop and take cover behind the massive roots of a towering tree. Beyond the thick foliage, they could see the imposing machines of a mining rig, its massive arms and drills churning up the soil. The sight of the rig sent a shiver down Jake's spine. He had inadvertently led the group off course by following the wrong tracks, and now they were face to face with the very forces he had once represented... still does represent.
Their eyes were fixed on the unnatural intrusion into their pristine world, watching the RDA personnel operate the heavy machinery drilling into the moon, and unbeknownst to them, the sounds emanating from the mining rig were causing Jake considerable discomfort. The noise of the mining rig, the clanging of metal against rock, and the thunderous rumble of the machinery were assaulting his ears.
He had started to adapt to many aspects of life on Pandora, but the cacophony of human machines was something his avatar body struggled to tolerate even still. He winced, placing his hands over his ears in a futile attempt to block out the noise. His head throbbed, and his eyes watered as the invasive sounds assaulted his senses. He needed quiet. He discreetly began to inch away from the group, his gaze scanning the surrounding forest for a sanctuary of silence. His movements were slow, careful not to draw attention to himself, but his discomfort was growing more evident by the moment. His brow furrowed, and he clenched his jaw to stifle any cries of pain that threatened to escape his lips.
Tsu'tey noticed. His keen eyes locked onto Jake's subtle attempt to distance himself from the site. He caught the foretell of his distress—a wince here, a grimace there, and the way his hands had instinctively covered his ears moments earlier. Without a word, Tsu'tey signaled to Ka'ani and Saeyla to remain where they were. Their eyes remain fixed on the rig.
Tsu'tey turned to Jake, his expression shifting as he noticed his distress. He spoke in hushed tones, "Jake, what is it?"
Jake struggled to make himself heard over the deafening sounds of the mining rig. His heart raced, and his breath came in shallow, rapid bursts. He managed to choke out, "It's the noise," as he motioned at his ears but he could hardly muster the words to explain further. His mind was becoming a turbulent sea of memories, old wounds reopening.
Before Tsu'tey could inquire further, the open desecrated land was filled with an even more chaotic noise. Over the deafening roar of the machinery, a chorus of piercing shrieks erupted from above. Jake's eyes widened as he recognized the unmistakable sounds of ikranay, the smaller flying creatures of Pandora relative to ikran.
They were Forest Banshee, not exactly the Mountain Banshee that inhabit the Hallelujah Mountains or the rookery in Hometree.
The RDA personnel at the mining rig seemed to have noticed the approaching ikranay as well. Panic spread among the human workers as they scrambled for cover, and then, chaos erupted. The unmistakable staccato of gunfire pierced the air as the ikranay swoop down to attack.
For Jake, the deafening sounds of gunfire and the shrieks of the ikranay were more than he could bear. It triggered a flood of painful memories from his past—memories he had long tried to bury.
A deep-seated trauma that reached back to his time in South America.
Venezuela. The war that had taken away his ability to walk. The relentless barrage of gunfire, the explosions, and the sheer terror of those days all came rushing back with a vengeance. He felt like he was back in the midst of that nightmare, paralyzed by fear and the overwhelming sensory onslaught. As the world around him blurred into a chaotic nightmare, Jake's legs gave way, and he dropped to his knees in panic. His breath came in short, ragged gasps, and his hands trembled uncontrollably. He clutched at the earth beneath him, desperately trying to ground himself in the reality of Pandora, but the past had him firmly in its grip, and he was powerless to escape it.
Tsu'tey rushed to Jake's side, trying to shield him from stray bullets wherever the ikranay flew, pulling him closer to the relative safety of the forest floor. "Jake, focus on me," he urged. "You are safe here. Breathe." His urgent words were nothing but a distant muffle, and the attempts of Ka'ani and Saeyla to help were met with confusion and frustration.
Jake couldn't hear him—couldn't hear them. He only heard warfare. Only saw warfare. He saw his hellish nightmares.
He saw the sleek, cutting-edge jet he had been test piloting, soaring through the clouds with his team by his side in formation. The excitement of the mission, the adrenaline coursing through his veins, it all felt so vivid and real.
But then, the moment that had haunted him for years unfolded before him once again.
The aircraft of his fellow pilots exploded in mid-air, their fiery destruction etching itself into Jake's memory with searing intensity. The deafening roar of engines, the blinding flash of explosions, the desperate cries over the radio—all of it surged back into his consciousness. His teammates' lives were extinguished in a matter of heartbeats. His own jet shuddered from the impact of enemy fire, but miraculously, it held together. He had survived. His jet had crash-landed relatively intact, and he had emerged from the wreckage with his life.
The memories came rushing back, vivid and overwhelming. Jake's hands shook as he clutched his head, his eyes wide with terror. He felt the intense pain and survivor's guilt that had haunted him ever since that fateful day in Venezuela.
He remembered those four long days stranded in enemy territory, the first two of which he had spent in the company of a Venezuelan orphan boy. The language barrier had initially seemed insurmountable, but they found ways to communicate through gestures and expressions. They had shared meager rations, found shelter in abandoned buildings. The simple companionship had been a lifeline for him while he was nothing but alone. But then, on the evening of the second day, the fragile peace had shattered. In a moment of desperation or perhaps fear, the boy had pulled a gun on Jake, and Jake had acted out of instinct, his own firearm trained on the boy. Jake had pleaded with the boy, trying to convey that he meant no harm, that they were both trapped in this hostile environment together. The boy's aim had been unsteady, but even with a terrible aim, the bullet had found its mark and lodged itself into Jake's spine.
Jake, on the other hand...
Tears welled up in his eyes as he remembered that traumatic moment.
Pain had surged through him, but he had retained enough control to fire his own weapon in self-defense. He had managed to neutralize a threat, but it had come at a heavy cost. He could vividly recall the sudden, numbing sensation that had swept through his lower body, extinguishing his ability to feel and move his legs. And for those long and agonizing two days until the extraction team could reach him, Jake had been trapped in that cramped hiding spot, unable to do anything but listen to the chaos of warfare raging outside.
Tsu'tey, still concerned for Jake, saw the anguish in his eyes and the way his body trembled. He gently placed a hand on Jake's shoulder, trying to get his attention. "Jake, what is happening?" He exchanged worried glances with his students, realizing that something far deeper and more complex was affecting Jake. Tsu'tey knew only very little of Jake's past and the horrors he endured on earth. "I will get you away from this noise, Jake," Tsu'tey assured him gently. "It is not a sound you need to endure." He decided to lead Jake further away from the mining rig, away from the source of his distress in a low bridal carry.
Ka'ani and Saeyla followed.
The group settled in a tranquil spot, where the gentle sounds of Pandora's natural world began to soothe Jake's frayed nerves.
Jake took a deep breath, allowing the purity of Pandora to wash over him. His heartbeat gradually slowed, and the overwhelming panic that had gripped him began to ebb away. The soothing sounds of the forest returned, the gentle rustling of leaves, the distant calls of the creatures, and the soft murmur of a nearby stream. The touch of the forest floor beneath his fingers, cool and slightly damp, helped ground him in the present moment.
Tsu'tey noticed the gradual return of clarity to Jake's eyes. "Are you okay, Jake?"
Jake took a deep breath, his trembling hands still clutching the forest floor. He felt a measure of relief, but there was a part of him, a deep-seated fear that he couldn't shake, that clung to him like a shadow—a fear that he had lost the use of his legs once more. "Erm... I—"
Tsu'tey, now sensing something was amiss, suggested that they continue their journey back to Hometree. "Let's stand, Jake," he said, offering his hand to help him up.
But as Jake gazed at his outstretched hand, he hesitated. His voice trembled as he uttered, "I can't stand." His words were laced with a deep, lingering fear and desperation. "I can't," he said, his voice quivering. "I can't feel my legs. I can't walk."
Tsu'tey knelt beside Jake, concern etched across his face. He examined Jake's legs, testing for any signs of injury or impairment. Finding nothing physically amiss, he tried to convey to Jake that there was no physical hindrance to his mobility. "You are not hurt, Jake," Tsu'tey said, gesturing to Jake's legs. "You can stand. We will help you. I will help you."
But the fear, the phantom sensation of immobility, was deeply ingrained in his psyche. Jake remained hesitant, his eyes locked on the lush forest floor beneath him, unable to trust his own body after the trauma he had endured. Tsu'tey gently took one of Jake's hands and placed it on a sturdy tree trunk nearby. He guided Jake to feel the rough texture of the tree's bark, the strength and stability it offered.
With a quiet reassurance, Tsu'tey said, "Feel the life in the tree, Jake. Trust in your body. You can stand."
Jake's hand trembled as he touched the tree, his mind racing with doubt and fear. He had faced life-altering injuries before, and the psychological scars ran deep. The memory of his inability to walk in the past was a haunting presence, making it difficult for him to believe that he was capable of standing. But he tried it—for Tsu'tey. He pushed himself to stand, his legs shaky and unsteady. The fear still clung to him, making each step a challenge. But as he slowly straightened up, leaning against the tree, the sensation of standing began to seep back into his consciousness. The physical reality of his legs supporting his weight was undeniable, even if the emotional scars of his past remained.
The painful memories of war, the terrifying incident in Venezuela, and the injury that had changed his life were just that—memories. They had no power to dictate his current reality. Albeit the reality of his avatar.
"See, you can walk," Tsu'tey said with a nod of approval, a hint of a proud smile in his eyes.
But Jake's sudden bewildered change did not go unnoticed by Ka'ani and Saeyla. They couldn't comprehend what had just transpired, and their confusion led to a barrage of questions.
"What happened?" Ka'ani asked with genuine concern, his eyes wide with curiosity. "Why did you think you could not walk?"
Saeyla chimed in, saying, "Yeah, what was that?"
The barrage of questions left Jake feeling overwhelmed and self-conscious. He hadn't anticipated having to share such a deeply personal and painful part of his past, especially in a world so different from his own.
Tsu'tey took a protective stance, positioning himself between Jake and his students. He gave them a firm but gentle look, conveying that they should back off. "That is enough. Jake does not owe it to us to explain what happened. He will share when he is ready." He had made it clear to Jake weeks ago that he respected his need for privacy and that he would be there to listen when Jake was ready to talk. That readiness to share his experiences was not today, and Jake deeply appreciated Tsu'tey's respect for his boundaries and his instinct to protect him from unwarranted intrusions.
With Tsu'tey's intervention, Ka'ani and Saeyla reluctantly withdrew their questions.
He turned his attention back to Jake, his concern undiminished. "Sully, are you ready to return to Kelutral?"
Jake, still processing the complex emotions stirred by his recent experience, met Tsu'tey's gaze. He was relieved that he didn't have to confront his traumatic past, pushing the incident to the back of his mind and hoping to move forward without revisiting the painful memories.
However, life on Pandora had a way of bringing unexpected challenges to the forefront.
It wouldn't be long before Jake's past would resurface, forcing him to confront the truth he had been trying to hide, especially when the Anurai arrived at Hometree, seeking assistance.