~~~Superstes~~~UNDERGOING MAJOR EDITING

Time tells stories.

I dipped my fingers into the bowl of paint. There was no music, no celebration after Jake Sully's eldest tamed another Toruk. Instead, the clan prepared for war once more. In the dim light of the Sully's temporary mauri, I stood before Neteyam and dragged my fingers along his face with the strokes and patterns he wanted. 

I covered his forehead stripes with a vibrant red. The corners of his eyes light, light blue, his cheekbones bright, pastel yellow, right under a sunset orange, and a fingertip print right on the bridge of his nose and his chin to match his mother. "There," I declared. "Done." 

He smiled warmly. "One more thing." 

"Yes?" 

I watched him turn around, so his muscular back faced me. He had braided the sides of his hair in multiple tight weaves against his skull, yet he had left the middle part of his hair unbraided. Already aware of what 'one more thing' is, I begin to fishtail his thick tresses until there's none left loose. Then, I twisted multiple tropical feathers into his braids, some small and some large, each a different color, and I threaded some smaller braids into beads that were striking to the eye.  

"Anything else?" 

"Nope." 

I knew that helping one another prepare and dress for war was a respect thing. All Na'vi warriors did it. They painted each other's faces, fixed each other's hair. I also knew from Neytiri that typically you assisted someone you took favor in, someone who was important to you, and they the same for you. 

As Neteyam painted my face, his fingers moved so delicately I wondered how his hands were capable of killing. He should have been a weaver, or someone who twisted fruit baskets into their shape, made bracelets and cared tenderly for children, not a deadly fighter who is a professional archer and warrior, who uses tomahawks to defeat his enemies. Not this boy. He could pet a butterfly if he wished to.  

But the truth was, he didn't pet butterflies. He fought and he killed. There was nothing anyone could do to change that. 

"Done," Neteyam said eventually, stepping away from me. He set the bowl of paint on the ground. "It looks good on you." 

I smirked and grabbed my bow. I had already gotten a fresh, new supply of arrows yesterday. I was ready to go, but my nerves were buzzing with adrenaline and fear of what might happen. There was always a chance I wouldn't see my mother again, or the Sully family, or Norm, or Max. 

Or Neteyam. 

I let my impulsive emotions take over. With a sad heart, I pulled Neteyam by his arm and enveloped him in a tight hug. He was tense and unprepared at first, but then he wrapped his arms around my back and held me with gentle pressure. Having to crane my neck, I rested my chin on his shoulder and sighed. "I'm not sure I want to do this." I mumbled. 

"I know," Neteyam replied. "But it will turn out fine." 

Both of us knew that wasn't true. People were going to die. This was the ultimate war, the one that would take hundreds of lives. That would destroy parts of the forest. I just couldn't imagine it taking my family. Or my friends. "You can't promise that." 

He pulls away from the hug to my disappointment. Then, he pulls a long necklace out of a satchel on his waist. It was a simple, thin leather strip with two smaller river stones surrounding a bigger one. My heart skips a beat as Neteyam drapes the gift over my head and arranges it around my neck. "I know I can't," he says, "but I can try." 

                                                                                            ~~~   

Lo'ak acted on emotions. He never thought about his next move, he just went for it and hoped it had a good outcome. In some cases, that can work, but in 99% of cases, it would end badly. You had to use your brain and your gut when in a tight spot, you had to be diligent, smart-witted and sly. Lo'ak's teenage clumsiness and ignorance didn't grant him those traits yet.