~~~Superstes~~~UNDERGOING MAJOR EDITING

Like father, like son.

                                                                                               ~~~ 

Fear sends a shiver down my spine. I don't wait for orders, instead I go running to find my own weapon. I find a pistol on a white desk, but I know I won't be sufficient using one. I was taught to use bows in battle, not guns. I remember I left my bow at our old tree temple because i left room for Tuk's, so I begin to sprint down the hallways where I know the exit is. 

Trudy and Norm call after me, but the adrenaline is real and I'm already burning through the doors by now. I dash past the courtyard and into the deep, dense forest. Twings and leaves and vines slap my face as I rush by them, leaving hot, stinging slashes across my cheeks. 

I hear ships and helicopters whirring in the air. I hear yips and hollers and commanding shouts, trees falling and gunshots going off. I end up meeting the pace of a group of Pa'li riders, they're rumbling hooves digging into the ground as they gallop. 

I warrior I recognize as Imat'oi is in the lead of the party. He used to train with me, like a mentor, and he taught me how to pay attention to my surroundings. He turns his head at me and looks me over, "You've gotten swift on your feet, Neteyam Te Suli!" he shouts. He used to just call me 'Makto's son', or 'boy' until I completed my rite of passing. I haven't spoken to him much since. 

My legs burn to keep up with them. My chest ached with the effort. "How many ships are there?" I pant. 

"Six, maybe seven. More are coming." He stretches out his arm to me and I grab it, allowing him to pull me onto the back of his pa'li. "I need a bow," I say, squeezing my legs against the horse's flank to keep from falling.  

He raises his own in the air and hollers before answering me. "And a bow you will get!" 

The warriors halt at in the middle of the forest where the fight is going on. What I see isn't a fight--but a war. Hundreds of Na'vi warriors clash against humans in their robotic machines, arrows fly down from ikran warriors and hit the glass machines, shattering them or bouncing off them. I already see Na'vi lying dead on the ground, blood seeping from bullet wounds. People are screaming, yelling, shouting war cries, hollering, all of the noise overlapping the steady heartbeat of battle. 

Imat'oi and I climb off our unsettled mount and headed straight for the cluster of Na'vi who were handing out weapons, spears, guns, and bows out of a big green case. People sprint passed us and arrows whiz by our heads, but it's nothing we aren't used to.