~~~Superstes~~~UNDERGOING MAJOR EDITING

Time tells stories.

So, when he came up to me and asked if he could fight, I couldn't reply. Here he was, holding the bow he's had since age eleven, war paint smeared across his face, eyes eager and longing to be a part of something big, something important that would affect thousands. It was still storming, and we were out in the open, arranging war parties and flyers. People jogged by and splattered mud everywhere. 

"Lo'ak," I began, sighing. "I can't answer that." 

His face fell. "You're letting Neteyam fight!" Slowly, his shadowing disappointment turned into anger. "Is it because he's Toruk Makto now? And I'm not?" 

"No, Lo'ak. That's not it. I can't keep an eye on both of you out there." 

"Then make Neteyam stay behind! He's the one who doesn't have a lung!" 

At the mention of his brother, I recall what Neteyam told me yesterday after he'd come to bring me home. He had yelled at me for not including or praising Lo'ak. "You know what?" I decided. "You can fight." 

After he realized my words, his eyes widened. I never thought doing something so dangerous would make him so happy. "Are you serious? This isn't a joke, right?" 

"I wish." 

He smiled ear-to-ear. "Thank you, Dad. I won't die, I promise." 

                                                                                     ~~~  

My only though was, I couldn't die. For the sake of my family, and the heartache I've already put them through, I won't die. I would live for my parents, my siblings, Spider, Norm, Dr. Max. For Tarsem. 

And for the girl inches away from my face, staring up at me with, sad, but hopeful eyes. She wasn't someone I could leave behind. Not for a war, for a race, or for a people. I didn't know what she was to me yet, other than the girl I liked, but I knew she was pretty dang important, and I wasn't going to abandon her for some stupid rivalry between the Na'vi and the sky-people. She was worth more than that. Much more. 

Just as we were about to lean in and fill the small space between us, Lo'ak burst through the mauri, beaming. "Neteyam! Dad's going to let me fight!" he held up his bow proudly and his face shone with pride under the smudged paint. 

My heart dropped, then sped up, then dropped again. First, I was about to have a moment, and second, my father is letting Lo'ak go fight in one of the biggest fights of our lives? No way. Absolutely not. 

"You are not fighting." I say seriously, casting a glance at Sephora as she backs away from me hastily, tucking a loose braid behind her ear. She avoids my gaze for the sake of not causing any suspicions. 

Lo'ak lets his arms fall at his sides. "What? Yes, I am. You can't decide it for me." 

"Lo'ak, it's too risky." My mind flashes back to that fever dream I had while I was undergoing surgery. Dad asked me if I was afraid of risks. I had said no. 

"No, it isn't, Neteyam. I'm just as capable as you." 

"I know that Lo'ak, just--Just promise me you'll stay near me. At all times." 

"Fine." 

                                                                                               ~~~ 

Tuk grips my leg tightly. She's got tears streaming down her cheeks and a wobbling chin, a puffy pair of eyes. We stand at the edge of camp, minutes away from taking off to go hunt down the RDA and reclaim what was ours. Hundreds, if not thousands of Na'vi warriors wait patiently for the signal to leave, all dressed in warrior clothing and adornments, war paint and weapons. Mo'at waits behind me to take Tuk when she's finished saying her goodbyes.