~~~Superstes~~~UNDERGOING MAJOR EDITING

Like father, like son.

Imat'oi points at the green case, "There, boy! Go find a weapon and choose wisely!" He yells. To communicate in this impossibly loud place, everyone has to shout. I thank him hastily and begin to jog away, but he grabs my shoulder. 

"Be brave, Neteyam." He speaks, "if you're truly ready, it won't be difficult. Even your father knows it." 

He gives me an encouraging shove and I race to the weapons area, snatching up a large Omaticayan bow. When I turn around, I immediately aim the bow at an avatar whose going toe-to-toe with a young Na'vi. The young warrior struggles and grimaces before his eyes wide at the arrow that implants itself in the heart of the avatar. When he finds me, I smile and give him a quick thumbs up before running off to find more RDA soldiers. 

I certainly don't have to look long, in fact, I didn't have to look at all. Each time I shot an arrow it went through a member of the RDA, and only more kept coming. I wasn't going to run low on victims. However, Dad's words rang in my head as I jumped over tree roots and ducked below flying arrows. 

You're supposed to be spotters, you spot bogeys, and you call them in. From a distance! What I was doing now was the polar demise of what he said. I didn't even have any protection on, or my visor, nothing that would keep me from getting injured. He definitely wouldn't like that. 

I told myself I wasn't going to get injured today. Not again. I ignored what happened yesterday with my legs, because nothing hurt, nothing wasn't working. Though I still ran out of breath easily, my single lung had grown and filled the empty spot of my other one, giving me one giant lung. I had a hard time imagining what that looked like inside. 

A certain blue frame caught my attention amongst the chaos. I found Sephora, hiding in the lush leaves of a tree branch, her eyes tracing smoothly across the arrow she was aiming. Locks of her hair hung in her face, and her mouth was slightly open in concentration. I dare not call to her, it would give away her position, but I let out a small yip to let her know I'm here, even if she can see me. 

To my satisfaction, her left ear twitches in my direction, though she doesn't avert her gaze. 

I'm not sure how long we were fighting. It was all a blur, and I'd lost track of time long ago. I didn't stop moving, eyeing my next target, dodging bullets. I was all go, go, go, go. Nobody has a break until the battle's over, that's just the way it went. Unless you were dying or collapsed, you kept going and you never, ever stopped. 

But that was what I loved about battle. I was defending something; I was protecting it. I was good at it, it's what I was made to do.

However, it didn't seem like we were winning. So many more of the RDA just kept flooding in, like a raging river splashing against the surface, knocking in its path everything down. I could already smell the stench of deceased bodies, the sharp scent of blood. The rusted metal that came with the RDA's ships and walking machines. 

I tripped over something as I continued to sprint through the woods. With shaking arms and legs, I rose to me feet to see what it was. 

Tarsem, lying flat on his back. He was staring at me, a spear driven through his collarbone. Everything in my body at that moment felt diseased, infected with fear. I crawled over to him with a heart that was aching. I didn't know how to address him, Olo'eyktan, sir, chief? 

I placed my hands against Tarsem's wound and pressed down. He turned his head to face me, blood seeping from the corners of his mouth. "I'm going to help you, Tarsem." I managed to say. 

Weakly, he reaches across his chest and pats my hand. "You will make a fine leader." He utters. 

I shake my head. "No, you're still Olo'eyktan. My father's not even here, you can't die." 

"I wasn't talking about your father. I said you."    

"No." 

"I trust you, Neteyam." 

I watch the light leave his eyes then, his pupils relaxing, and his muscles relieved on their tension. His hand falls away and flops onto the ground. I grimace and pull away from the fallen leader, his blood making my hands sticky. 

The clan was now leaderless. 

"Neteyam." 

I turn around to see Dad standing behind me, holding an axe and a rifle, and my bow. My heart lurches at the sight of him, but I'm slow to stand up and face him. I don't even question why or how he got here. "Dad," I say, "we're losing." 

"I know." 

I wipe my stained hands on my torso as Dad hands me my visor. I take it gently and place it on my head, sticking my ears through the sides. He then passes me my bow solemnly, not a word spoken between us. 

"Are you going to let me fight?" 

"I don't have much of a choice." 

"What about Lo'ak?" 

"He's flying ahead, scanning the area. I expect him to come down here sooner or later, though. Your sisters have gone to recruit other clans." 

I nod. "I'm sorry for sneaking away." 

"We'll talk about it later." 

"Yes, sir."

Dad and I jump back into action side-by-side, and he amazes me when he's in battle. He said that his 'marine blood' was passed onto his sons, giving us the courageous heart and a strong mind, a resilient body. I didn't really know what a marine was, Dad told me it was a warrior, and I knew that him and I both shared the likeness of one.

                                                                                                ~~~ 

AN: Thank you but I think this was one of my best chapters. 

Romans 8:38-You are not defined by your mistakes. You are defined by God, and he loves you no matter what.