The glowing Atokirina—the Woodsprites lowered themeselves from the trees hovering around us, bioluminescent tendrils rippling as they drifted back up into the dark canopy of the jungle. They left behind a profound, ringing silence in the clearing, a heavy sense of awe that settled over my small shoulders.
I watched them vanish into the leaves, my mind racing a million miles a minute. As I clung to Jake's massive blue Avatar back. I thought of home, of my mother, of my father, of Jarvis. I missed them alot, and wondered if, if they missed me too.
" Hurry up!". Neytiri ahead of us called, almost like she wasn't just calling Jake out for being a loud baby a few minutes ago. Jake turned his head, looking back at me with a bewildered expression. "See, Jake?" I whispered, a cheeky grin returning to my face as I pushed my messy, hair out of my eyes. "The glowing jellyfish don't lie. You're practically engaged now."
Jake let out a sharp bark of laughter. "Shut up, Stark. Lead the way, Neytiri."
We didn't even make it ten yards before the tranquil peace of the jungle was violently shattered.
The soft, ambient hum of the forest was abruptly drowned out by the thundering, rhythmic pounding of heavy hooves. The ground beneath Jake's feet vibrated so violently my teeth rattled. From the dark thicket ahead, massive silhouettes burst through the glowing foliage, moving at terrifying speeds.
"Ambush!" Jake roared. His military instincts overrode his injured ankle instantly. He spun around, crouching low, trying to shield me with his body as his hands came up in a defensive, close-quarters combat stance, pulling a combat knife out his back holster and pointing it towards them.
Out of the darkness burst five massive creatures. They were Pa'li—Direhorses. They stood over thirteen feet tall at the shoulder, featuring six powerful legs, armored hides of deep gray and blue, and long, elegant necks. But it wasn't the beasts that made my heart hammer against my ribs; it was the riders.
Five Na'vi warriors, fully armed with massive hunting bows and long, obsidian-tipped spears, circled us with practiced, terrifying military precision. Their Direhorses hissed, kicking up clods of glowing dirt as they trapped us in a tight, inescapable ring of muscle and steel-hard bone.
The leader of the hunting party reared his mount back. He was a tall, fiercely muscular warrior with a prominent warrior's queue, his face painted in aggressive, intimidating patterns of white and crimson. His eyes were cold, filled with a burning, unadulterated hatred for the Dreamwalker standing before him.
Tsu'tey. The finest warrior of the Omaticaya clan.
Tsu'tey drew a massive, heavy arrow back to his cheek, the bowstring groaning under the immense tension. He aimed the deadly, neurotoxin-laced tip directly between Jake's yellow eyes.
"Krang!" Tsu'tey roared in his native tongue, a booming thunderclap that echoed through the trees. He shouted a string of fierce commands, his warriors tightening the circle, their spears lowered directly at Jake's chest and my small, human form.
Jake didn't back down. He bared his fangs, letting out a low, defensive growl. "Back off!" Jake yelled, his voice carrying the raw authority of a marine sergeant. "We don't want any trouble!"
Tsu'tey's finger twitched on the bowstring. He didn't care about explanations. To him, an unauthorized Dreamwalker deep in their territory was a disease that needed to be purged.
Before he could release the arrow, Neytiri threw herself into the center of the chaos.
She leaped directly in front of Jake, her arms spread wide, placing her own body between Tsu'tey's arrow and us. She screamed at the top of her lungs, her voice carrying a sharp, commanding authority that made the Direhorses shift uneasily.
"Tsu'tey, kehe!" Neytiri yelled, her voice fierce and unyielding. "Stop! You must not shoot!"
Tsu'tey's eyes narrowed in frustration, his bow remaining steady. He barked back in Na'vi, his tone furious. "He is a Dreamwalker! A demon! Why do you stand in front of him, Neytiri?"
"There has been a sign!" Neytiri shouted back flawlessly, pointing a hand toward the canopy. "The Atokirina blanketed him! Both of them! Eywa has chosen them, Tsu'tey! We must bring them to the Tsahìk!"
The mention of Eywa and the Tsahìk sent a visible shockwave through the hunting party. The other warriors lowered their spears slightly, murmuring among themselves, their eyes darting between Jake and the small, eight-year-old human boy clinging to his back.
Tsu'tey's face contorted in pure rage. He slowly, reluctantly, lowered his bow, but the glare he directed at Jake was lethal. He barked a final command. Two warriors slid off their mounts, marching forward and roughly grabbing Jake's arms, twisting them behind his back.
"Hey, watch the merchandise!" I shouted from Jake's shoulders, glaring at the warrior. "I'm a delicate genius up here!"
The warrior ignored me, binding Jake's wrists with thick, fibrous rope. Tsu'tey turned his Direhorse around, his voice cold. "We bring them to Mo'at. If the Mother did not speak, their blood will water the roots."
The march through the night was a blur of exhausting, terrifying majesty. Jake walked with a heavy limp, his wrists bound, but he never complained. I stayed securely on his back, my mind analyzing the neural queue connections—the tsaheylu—between the riders and their mounts. It was an elegant, biological form of fiber-optic communication.
Suddenly, the dense wall of the jungle gave way, and we stepped into a massive, breathtaking valley that left me completely speechless.
Rising out of the earth like a natural skyscraper of impossible proportions was Kelutrel. Hometree.
It was an ancient, gargantuan structure, a tree so massive its trunk looked like a mountain of woven wood and stone. It stretched hundreds of feet into the sky, its colossal root system creating a sprawling labyrinth of arches, tunnels, and caverns. The entire tree was alive with soft, pulsing bioluminescence, its interior glowing with the warm, golden light of cooking fires.
As we were marched into the grand arches of the root system, the sheer scale of the Omaticaya clan became real. Hundreds of Na'vi were gathered along the spiral pathways and elevated walkways that wound around the interior of the trunk. They looked down at us with a collective, heavy silence. Thousands of yellow eyes tracked our progress, their expressions filled with deep suspicion and quiet anger.
The warriors forced Jake down onto his knees in the center of the massive, circular commons area. I slid off Jake's back, my sneakers making a soft, distinct clicking sound against the polished wood floor. I stood right beside him, adjusting my Baymax backpack.
The crowd suddenly parted.
Walking down a grand, sweeping spiral staircase of roots was a tall, regal Na'vi woman wearing an elaborate cape made of iridescent feathers and a heavy breastplate of woven bone. Her face was set in a mask of profound, ancient wisdom. It was Mo'at, the Tsahìk of the Omaticaya. Beside her walked Eytukan, the clan leader, carrying a massive ornamental bow.
The entire room went completely, utterly dead silent.
Tsu'tey stepped forward, bowing his head respectfully. "Ma Eytukan, ma Mo'at. We found this Dreamwalker bumbling in the forest. And he brings this... this tiny creature of metal and false skin into our sanctuary."
Eytukan stepped forward, his voice a deep rumble. "Why do you bring them here, Tsu'tey? Their place is at the edge of the world. They should have been slain."
Neytiri stepped forward, her voice ringing with certainty. "I stopped the bow, Father. A sign was given. The Atokirina blanketed them. Eywa has spoken. We must listen."
A collective gasp rippled through the hundreds of Na'vi. Mo'at raised a single hand, and the whispers died instantly.
She walked slowly down the steps, her long stride bringing her directly to where Jake knelt. She stood over him, her yellow eyes scanning his Avatar face. She reached out, pulling a long, sharp thorn from her garment. With a swift motion, she pricked Jake's chest, drawing a bead of dark red Avatar blood. She touched it to her tongue, closing her eyes to taste his essence.
"Why do you come to us?" Mo'at asked, her voice dripping with ancient, formidable power.
Jake swallowed hard. "I came to learn. I want to understand your people. I want to see."
Mo'at let out a sharp, skeptical hiss. "We have tried to teach the Sky People. But you are like children. You do not hear. You see only what can be taken."
She then turned her gaze slowly down to me.
I stood my ground. I was tiny compared to these ten-foot giants, but my soul was older, and my resolve was absolute. Mo'at walked closer, kneeling down to bring her massive face to my eye level. The scent of sweet resin and dried sage washed over me.
"And you, tiny spirit," Mo'at whispered, her eyes locking onto mine. "Why does Eywa send a child of the enemy to our hearth?"
I took a deep breath, looking directly into the eyes of the spiritual leader. I didn't give her snark. I gave her the absolute, unvarnished truth of my soul.
"Because I want to change my destiny," I said, my voice steady, echoing clearly in the quiet cavern of Hometree. "My people... the Sky People... they build machines to destroy. They dig up the earth and leave ash behind. I was born into a family that builds weapons. They call us Merchants of Death."
I stepped closer to her, placing a small hand over my own heart. "But I don't want to be a destroyer. I died once, in my dreams, and I woke up with a second chance. I want to be a good man. I want to build things that protect people. I want to learn from you, Mo'at. I want you to teach me how your people heal the forest. How you connect with it. Because if I can learn how to heal this world, maybe I can save my own."
Mo'at stared at me for a long, agonizing moment. Her yellow eyes searched mine, looking for deceit, looking for the typical corporate greed of the RDA. But all she found was the earnest plea of an eight-year-old dreamer trying to outrun a dark legacy.
"Words are wind, tiny Dreamer," Mo'at said softly, though her tone was significantly less harsh. "The Sky People speak of peace while their machines tear our roots."
"I can prove it," I said stubbornly.
Right at that exact moment, as if the universe itself was setting up the punchline, a sharp cry echoed from the lower roots.
A young Na'vi child, maybe five or six years old in human terms, had been running along a raised, polished root to get a better look at us. He had slipped on a patch of wet moss and tumbled hard onto the wooden floor below. He sat up, crying out in pain, clutching his lower leg where a sharp, jagged splinter of wood had sliced a deep, nasty gash across his blue calf. Dark red blood welled up quickly.
The child's mother let out a cry, rushing down the steps to reach him.
But before anyone else could react, my heavy canvas backpack let out a sharp, electronic beep.
"Distress detected. Medical protocols engaged."
Fwomp. Hsssssssss.
The front flap of my backpack blew wide open. Thick, white vinyl rapidly inflated, expanding outward with the loud hiss of compressed air. In less than three seconds, a six-foot-tall, incredibly rotund, balloon-like white robot stood in the middle of the sacred Na'vi Hometree.
Absolute, utter pandemonium erupted.
The Na'vi shrieked in terror. Warriors leaped forward, completely surrounding us. A dozen heavy hunting bows were drawn simultaneously, the creak of tensioned wood echoing like gunfire. Spears were leveled directly at Baymax's massive, soft chest. Tsu'tey roared a command, preparing to unleash a volley of arrows into the "metal golem."
Jake panicked entirely. He thrashed against his bonds, his eyes wide with sheer terror. "Tony! Tony, shut that thing off! Shut it down right now before they skewer us!"
I didn't flinch. I just stood there, crossing my arms over my chest, a massive, incredibly smug smirk spreading across my face.
"Relax, wheels," I said loudly, completely unbothered by the lethal weapons pointed at my head. "Just watch the magic happen."
Baymax blinked his two dark, connected eyes. He slowly turned his large, vinyl head, completely ignoring the dozen lethal arrows pointed at his face. He locked his gaze onto the crying Na'vi child sitting a few yards away.
"Excuse me. Coming through," Baymax said in his perfectly calm, soothing, robotic voice.
With a slow, squeaky waddle that entirely shattered the tension of the room, the giant marshmallow robot stepped forward. The Na'vi warriors were so baffled by the creature's complete lack of aggression and ridiculous, waddling gait that they instinctively stepped back, their spears wavering.
Baymax waddled right up to the injured child. The boy's mother hissed, raising a hand to protect her son, but Mo'at raised her hand, commanding her people to hold their ground. She watched with intense, rapt fascination.
Baymax knelt down—a slow, gentle process—and scanned the child's leg with a soft blue beam of light emanating from his eyes.
"You have sustained a minor laceration to the lower epidermis," Baymax stated calmly. "Your heart rate is elevated due to fear and pain. " Baymax lowered his hand and patted the childs head twice." There there. I will now provide treatment."
One of Baymax's soft, balloon-like fingers extended. A small, sterile compartment opened at the tip, revealing a small canister of Stark-tech bio-synthetic healing spray I had formulated in the lab. Baymax gently held the child's leg with his oversized, soft hands and sprayed a cool, blue foam over the gash.
Instantly, the bleeding stopped. The foam rapidly hardened into a flexible, soothing, protective polymer bandage. The sharp stinging pain vanished, and the Na'vi child stopped crying, looking down at his leg in wide-eyed wonder.
Baymax then opened a compartment on his chest and pulled out a light pink and white lollipop. He offered it to the child.
"You have been a very good patient. Have a lollipop."
The child hesitantly took the candy, looking up at the giant white face. Baymax reached out and gently patted the child's head with a soft, squeaky hand.
"I am Baymax, your personal healthcare companion. If you are satisfied with your care, please say so."
The child, holding the lollipop, looked up at his mother, then at Baymax, and giggled, a bright, joyous sound.
The entire Hometree was dead silent, save for the hum of the bioluminescence. The fierce warriors slowly lowered their bows. Tsu'tey looked at the white balloon creature as if his entire understanding of reality had just been broken over a knee.
I looked up at Mo'at, my smug grin softening into a genuine smile. "I told you. We build things to heal, too."
Mo'at stared at Baymax, then looked down at me. The harshness in her ancient face completely melted away. In the culture of the Na'vi, where all life was deeply sacred, the creation of a "golem" designed solely to nurture, comfort, and heal the wounded was a profound testament to the soul of its creator. It was proof that my heart was not made of destroying metal, but of deep, genuine compassion. At least that's what I believe from my understanding of their people thanks to Grace.
"I am satisfied with my care, buddy," I called out.
"Deactivating, goodbye Tony." Baymax replied smoothly. With a long, continuous hiss of escaping air, Baymax waddled backward, rapidly deflating and folding himself neatly back into the custom compartment of my backpack.
Mo'at let out a long, slow breath. She turned to her husband, Eytukan, speaking softly in Na'vi. Eytukan listened, looking at me, then looking at Jake. He gave a slow, solemn nod.
Mo'at turned back to us, her voice carrying across the silent hall.
"The Dreamwalker will stay," Mo'at declared, her voice echoing with finality. She pointed a long finger at Jake. "My daughter, Neytiri, will teach him our ways. She will teach him to weave, to ride, to hunt. To understand the flow of Eywa."
Neytiri's ears pinned back flat against her head. She looked completely horrified. "Mother! Why me? This is a mistake! He is stupid, like a baby!"
"It is decided!" Mo'at snapped back, leaving no room for argument. Neytiri crossed her arms, glaring daggers at Jake.
Mo'at then looked down at me. A rare, warm smile graced the Tsahìk's features. "And the tiny Dreamer will stay with the healers. You have a pure spirit, child of the sky. You wish to learn the healing of the forest, and we shall teach you. We will see if your heart is as strong as your metal golem."
I let out a massive sigh of relief, sagging slightly. "Thank you, ma'am. You won't regret it."
"Cut his bonds," Eytukan commanded.
A warrior stepped forward, slicing the ropes binding Jake's wrists. Jake rubbed his sore arms, letting out a long breath. We had survived. Against all odds, we were in.
Two hours later, the adrenaline had completely worn off, replaced by a bone-deep exhaustion.
The tension in Hometree had eased significantly. Once Mo'at decreed we were allowed to stay, the clan returned to their evening routines, though we still drew plenty of curious stares and whispers.
We were sitting around a massive, glowing campfire built on a raised stone hearth near the lower levels of the tree. The smell of roasting hexapede meat and sweet, baked tubers filled the air.
Jake was sitting on a woven mat, looking absolutely miserable. After being accepted into the clan for training, the warriors had immediately stripped him of his RDA-issued cargo pants and boots. He was now wearing nothing but a traditional Na'vi loincloth, a leather chest harness, and a few simple beads.
I was sitting across the fire from him, eating a massive, incredibly sweet purple fruit that tasted like a cross between a mango and a marshmallow. I couldn't stop laughing.
"BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!"
"I'm telling you, wheels, it's a good look for you," I teased, tossing a small pit into the fire. "Very aerodynamic. Really highlights the calves. I just hope there isn't a strong breeze, or the whole clan is going to get a very educational biology lesson."
Jake glared at me, pulling the small strip of leather down as far as it would go, shivering slightly in the cool night air. "Enjoy the jokes while you can, Stark. Tomorrow I'm stuck in the jungle with a warrior princess who wants to use my head for target practice."
"Hey, she's teaching you the ways of the forest," I grinned. "Meanwhile, I'll be hanging out with Mo'at, learning ancient botanical secrets and probably getting treated like royalty because I'm adorable."
"You're a menace, is what you are," Jake grunted, though a small smile tugged at his lips. He took a bite of the roasted meat they had given us. "But... thanks, kid. That stunt with the robot... it saved our asses."
"Don't mention it," I said softly, taking another bite of the fruit. "We're a team, Jake. Though I think it's highly unfair i'm stuck with old people, while you get to hang with Smurfette Pocohantus."
Jake chuckled and ruffled my hair, sitting beside me. I leaned up beside him, one of the only people I could confidently call a friend in this universe.
Eventually, the fires began to die down, and the clan began to retire for the night. Neytiri, still looking deeply annoyed by her new assignment, walked over and gestured for us to follow her.
We followed her up a massive, winding ramp made of woven vines and polished wood, ascending higher and higher into the colossal trunk of Hometree. The air grew cooler, and the ambient bioluminescence shifted to a soothing, deep violet.
We reached the sleeping levels. Suspended between the massive interior branches were hundreds of glowing, teardrop-shaped hammocks woven from giant leaves and strong vines. Na'vi families were already settling into them, curling up together in the gentle, swaying pods.
Neytiri pointed to two empty hammocks near the edge of the branch. Without a word, she turned and gracefully leaped into her own hammock a few branches higher, disappearing into the leaves.
Jake groaned, his muscles aching as he awkwardly climbed into the lower hammock. The giant leaf enveloped him, glowing with a soft, pulsing light that reacted to his body heat.
"Night, kid," Jake called out softly, his voice heavy with exhaustion. "Don't fall."
"Night, Jake," I replied.
I climbed up into the hammock next to his. I took off my Baymax backpack, securing it safely to a thick branch, and settled into the center of the giant, glowing leaf. It was incredibly soft, contouring perfectly to my small body.
I lay on my back, looking out through a massive gap in the bark of Hometree. The sky above Pandora was crystal clear, a canvas of unfamiliar, dazzling stars. Taking up nearly half the horizon was the massive, swirling blue-and-purple face of the gas giant, Polyphemus, casting a brilliant, ethereal glow over the entire jungle.
I took a deep breath, the clean, pure air filling my lungs.
I thought about Earth. I thought about the Stark legacy, the weapons, the boardroom politics, and the grim destiny I had left behind in another universe. I had died. I had been reborn as an eight-year-old child. And now, I was going to sleep in a glowing tree on an alien world, protected by a tribe of ten-foot-tall warriors, with a robot in my backpack and a whole new life ahead of me.
I smiled, closing my eyes as the hammock gently swayed in the night breeze.
I was definitely going to be a good man. And this time, I was going to do it right.