Chapter Text
Dyer’s bowl was tranquil, serene.
In the corner of the valley, the soft hum of her song drifted beneath the tarp, quiet and warm despite the rain tapping steadily overhead.
A sturmbeast lifted its great head weakly from the moss bedding she had laid out, cloudy eyes watching her as she carefully tilted another carved bowl toward its mouth.
“There you go,” she whispered softly. “Slowly… slowly, sweetheart…”
The animal drank greedily despite its trembling.
Nearby, a pair of sick hexepede twitched miserably beneath blankets, their breathing ragged, thin ribs rising far too sharply beneath striped hides. The smell of sickness hung heavy beneath the shelter. Rot. Infection.
It made her stomach twist.
If she hadn’t found them when she did, they would have died from the RDA’s pollution.
The baby prolemuris clinging to her back chirped sleepily as she moved between her patients, Its little face buried itself against the crook of her neck while she worked.
(Y/n) continued humming anyway.
Anything to keep the creatures calm.
Anything to make them hurt a little less.
A sturmbeast let out a weak rumble as her blue 5 fingered hands stroked its snout.
“I know…” she murmured sadly. “I know…” Her heart cracked open every single time she saw this.
Animals did not understand greed.
Did not understand war.
They only knew pain as a result of the horrors.
After checking the last of the medicine—water mixed carefully with crushed dapophet pods—she finally rose to her feet with a tired exhale.
The prolemuris on her back squeaked indignantly at the movement.
“I know, you dramatic little thing,” she whispered.
The creature huffed.
She smiled faintly.
Then headed deeper through the sanctuary.
Too many injured creatures.
Too many frightened ones.
A small den tucked beneath tangled roots came into view and immediately tiny whining cries echoed out toward her.
“There are my babies…”
Three viperwolf pups stumbled clumsily toward her the moment she crouched down.
Fllo, Hllo and Ewi. All paws. Oversized ears. Sharp little teeth.
Their mother and pack had been killed by an RDA patrol.
(Y/n) swallowed the bitterness rising in her throat. “Easy… easy…”
She reached into one of her satchels, pulling strips of meat free.
The pups practically climbed into her lap.
Tiny growls. Hungry whines.
One latched onto her wrist instead of the food and she snorted softly. “You are very fierce but watch the teeth,” she deadpanned quietly.
The pup sneezed directly into her face.
“…Disgusting.” Her sarcasm was gentle. Fond.
The pups wagged harder at the sound of her voice. They were finally old enough for meat instead of milk substitute. Messy little things tore into the strips while another simply shoved its face against her chest demanding attention first.
Spoiled.
Absolutely spoiled.
A soft smile pulled at her lips as little tails wagged wildly against the dirt.
Then the distant mechanical shriek of a scorpion gunship tore across the forest.
The pups flinched violently.
The sound alone made her chest tighten.
The pups immediately began whining nervously.
Around the sanctuary, creatures shifted uneasily.
Herds moved.
Birds vanished from the trees.
Silence spread through the forest like rippling water.
Another engine roar echoed overhead.
Too low.
Far too low.
The baby prolemuris on her back chirped anxiously.
(Y/n) rose quickly, trying not to let her hands shake.
“It’s okay,” she whispered automatically, though her pulse was already hammering painfully. “It’s okay…”
It was not okay.
Creatures were already moving for cover.
She hurried back toward her small camp hidden amongst the roots and vines, a hammock for her avatar, her research equipment, a computer and a few other things kept under here such a small kitchen to make the necessary things she needed to make for the creatures in her care,. She carefully lifted the prolemuris from her shoulders and settling it into a hollow lined with blankets and moss.
Tiny hands clung to her wrist immediately.
“I’ll come back,” she promised softly.
The creature whined.
“I know… I know…”
Her eyes flicked toward the sound of engines again. Sounded like it was near the lake, it was still much too close for her liking.
Her stomach twisted.
Where there was RDA there was guns.
She hated guns.
Hated them.
Hated the noise.
Hated what they did.
But her gaze still settled on the rifle leaning beside her shelter.
A long moment passed before she grabbed it reluctantly and slung it over her shoulder.
As much as she hated guns those in her care were defenceless and so she would defend them.
Then she took a breath and stepped into the trees.
The sanctuary behind her held wounded creatures. Babies without parents.
Animals that trusted her to keep them safe.
She wouldn’t allow the RDA to play their twisted games with them.
Not in her neck of the woods.
Hammerheads ran past her as she reached the bottom of the valley of Dyer’s bowl. She’d have to check on them on her way back.
(Y/n) moved silently through the trees, their shadows hiding her from human eyes.
Three armed men walked along the shores of the lake.
RDA.
Her ears flattened slightly.
She shifted her grip on the gun, preparing to step from cover—
Then one of the men dropped with an arrow through his throat.
(Y/n) froze.
Another arrow struck the second human square in the chest before he could even shout.
The third spun around in panic only for a blue figure to crash into him from above.
The stranger slammed him into the mud and snapped his neck in one clean motion.
Silence returned almost instantly.
(Y/n) blinked. “…What the hell…”
The Na’vi straightened. He wore a faded TAP shirt and human shorts.
An avatar perhaps?
But he was young?
Far too young to have been apart of the avatar program.
And when he reached for another arrow, she noticed his fingers.
Four.
Not five.
Born Na’vi.
Not born from a tank. Not a driver.
Her brow furrowed why was this kid wearing human clothes.
The boy moved again before she could speak, picking a few dapophet pods, jogging toward the larger abandoned depot building further back.
(Y/n) followed silently through the trees.
However RDA were looming around the site.
Foot Soldiers.
AMP suits.
At least two.
The young navi crouched near an old generator, drawing his bow carefully while gunfire rattled against it.
One wrong move and—
He loosed an arrow.
One human dropped instantly.
The second barely had time to shout before another shaft buried itself in his shoulder.
Then the AMP suits opened fire.
Gunshots exploded.
(Y/n) physically winced at the noise.
God she hated that sound.
The young avatar ducked behind cover as rounds tore through metal beside him.
Then she stepped out.
Her rifle barked violently in her hands.
One AMP jerked as bullets tore through the pilot compartment.
The second turned too slowly.
Another burst dropped it hard enough the machine collapsed through a rusted crate.
The young Navi stared at her for a moment.
“Thank you,” he said quickly. Young voice.
Up close she could see it clearer now.
Na’vi features. Four fingers. TAP clothes. The mark. Sarentu. Now that she thought about it Alma and So’lek said they were checking the old TAP facility for survivors, this must be one of them.
He adjusted his bow slightly. “I’m Tamtey— I can’t stop to talk.” Tamtey already moved again, jogging toward a lone tree in the back.
Someone lay against the base of the tree. Her stomach sank immediately. Someone was injured.
And then she spotted the familiar figure sitting against the trunk.
Blood smeared dark across his side.
So’lek looked up slowly.
(Y/n) immediately stormed forward, stepping up next to Tamtey. “You oaf,” she snapped. “What did you do now?”
His ears flicked once in annoyance. “Now is not the time for your incessant nagging, dreamwalker.”
Tamtey blinked rapidly between them. “You know each other?”
“Unfortunately,” So’lek answered flatly.
(Y/n) folded her arms. “Sad, I know.”
Tamtey looked completely lost.
So’lek pressed a hand harder against the wound. “I am not gravely injured,” he said with clear irritation. “I simply need a dapophet pod and I shall be fine.”
(Y/n) immediately stepped backward with both hands raised dramatically. “Oh, forgive me,” she said dryly. “I shall next time not waste my worry.”
“Do not pretend you are worried.”
She stared at him. Then laughed once in disbelief. “Oh absolutely. Because getting shot repeatedly is clearly one of your charming personality traits.”
So’lek gave her a hard look. “You exaggerate.”
“You’re watering the tree with your blood.”
Tamtey physically looked between them again like he was watching some strange interaction he did not understand.
(Y/n) pointed vaguely toward So’lek’s bleeding side. “Once you stop pretending you are immune to bullets perhaps this will stop happening.”
“I am fine.”
“Wonderful. Then I can leave.”
She turned slightly before pausing. “I can tell when I am not wanted,” she said more quietly. “Forgive me for inconveniencing the dog-tag warrior.”
Tamtey’s eyes widened slightly.
“And since he is fine,” she continued with forced lightness, “I have better things to do.”
She turned to leave.
So’lek watched her go silently.
Tamtey slowly handed him a dapophet pod.
So’lek took it, biting into it without another word.
“This,” he said after a moment, “is how we heal.”
Tamtey crouched beside him.
Then glanced toward where (Y/n) had disappeared into the trees. “Who was that?”
So’lek was quiet for a long moment. “That is (Y/n).”
“She is with the resistance as well but make no mistake she is not one of us, she fights for the broken remnants of her home.”
Tamtey tilted his head slightly. “You two do not seem to get along.”
So’lek gave him a flat stare. Obviously.
So’lek pushed himself to his feet with the same stubbornness he did everything else with. Like bleeding was an inconvenience instead of an injury.
Tamtey watched him carefully.
The older warrior’s gaze moved over him slowly.
No songcord.
So’lek’s expression hardened slightly. “You have no songcord.”
Tamtey instinctively touched the bare skin at his throat. For a moment the confident edge he carried slipped. “We had my mother’s,” he answered quietly. “But they stole it.”
Something dark flickered behind So’lek’s eyes then. Not pity.Something colder. Anger. “We must change that.” And just like that he started walking.
Tamtey blinked rapidly. “Wait!”
So’lek stopped but did not turn around.
“What should I do now?” Tamtey asked.
The question sounded younger than he probably intended.
Lost.
So’lek stood silently for a moment beneath the swaying trees.
“Do?”
He glanced back over one shoulder.
“You must discover your own way, Sarentu.”
Tamtey straightened slightly.
“Until then,” So’lek continued, “join the resistance.”
The older warrior’s gaze sharpened.
“But hear me.” His voice lowered. “Those humans may share the same enemy.”
“We are not the same.”
Tamtey frowned slightly, trying to understand.
Then the shriek of a low flying scorpion tore overhead.
So’lek’s head snapped upward instantly.
The aircraft thundered somewhere beyond the trees.
Too close.
Far too close.
So’lek’s expression changed immediately.
Gone was the calm irritation. Gone was the detached indifference. Now he looked alert.
Almost alarmed.
“No,” he muttered sharply. “No, no, no, no…”
Tamtey stiffened.
“What is it—”
“They are too close.”
So’lek was already moving.
“Go,” he ordered. “I will meet you by base camp near the waterfall.”
Then he broke into a sprint through the forest.
Not toward the resistance.
Not away from the danger.
Toward it.
Tamtey stared after him in confusion as branches snapped somewhere ahead.
Tamtey followed the edge of the lake cautiously, eyes flicking constantly toward the cliffs towering above the water.
The waterfall thundered somewhere ahead.
Base camp had to be up there.
The ground shook.
Tamtey froze instantly.
Three massive hammerheads emerged from the trees ahead, enormous heads lifting with deep warning growls that rattled through the earth itself.
Their forelegs scraped violently against the dirt.
Ready to charge.
Tamtey instinctively reached for his bow.
Then stopped.
Because standing between them was (Y/n).
The creatures settled almost immediately at the sight of her.
One lowered its gigantic head into her waiting hands with a low rumbling croon while the others circled around her slowly.
Gentle. Affectionate. One nudged her shoulder hard enough it nearly shoved her sideways.
“You are all very dramatic today,” she murmured softly.
The hammerhead snorted heavily. Another bowed its massive head insistently for attention.
(Y/n) laughed quietly beneath her breath, the sound warm and soft as sunlight through leaves. “There,” she whispered, rubbing along the creature’s face. “You are okay… nobody is hurting you…”
Tamtey stared.
Hammerheads. The most territorially aggressive creatures on Pandora. And they were acting like overgrown puppies.
One suddenly lifted its head sharply toward Tamtey and gave a loud warning cry.
Immediately the others tensed.
(Y/n) gently pressed both hands against the nearest one. “Shh… easy…”
The animal calmed almost instantly beneath her touch.
“Tamtey is not a danger,” she told them softly. “He is a friend.”
The creatures slowly settled again.
Tamtey approached carefully.
Very carefully.
“They seem to like you,” he said quietly.
(Y/n) glanced over briefly.
“Lower your voice,” she answered softly. Not rude. Just gentle.
Tamtey obeyed automatically.
(Y/n) rested her forehead briefly against one hammerhead’s enormous face.
“I rescued these three when they were babies,” she explained quietly. “They chose to stay here in Dyer’s Bowl.”
One immediately nudged her again for more affection.
She sighed dramatically.
Another pushed its head against her shoulder.
“They are now overgrown babies.”
Tamtey noticed movement then. Shapes lingering beyond the trees. Hexepede. Sturmbeasts. Several viperwolves watching cautiously from the underbrush. Even a pair of fan lizards clung nearby.
Waiting.
Like they were simply waiting for him to leave so they could crowd around her again.
The realization settled strangely in his chest.
Tamtey’s gaze shifted back to her more carefully. “You are an avatar.”
“Yes.” She scratched absentmindedly beneath one hammerhead’s jaw. “I am a xenozoologist and veterinarian.”
“I guess.” The uncertainty in the last words sounded oddly awkward. Like she disliked talking about herself.
Tamtey tilted his head slightly. “Can you point me toward the base?”
(Y/n) nodded toward the cliffs. “Up there. Hard to miss.”
Then she glanced toward the waterfall. “But I am heading that direction anyway.”
One of the hammerheads rumbled anxiously.
She immediately pressed a hand to its face. “Once I help steady their hearts.”
Tamtey took another step closer. Which apparently triggered half the forest. Several hexepede suddenly burst from the undergrowth toward her, skittering nervously around her legs.
(Y/n) immediately crouched. “Oh, hey, hey— easy…” Her voice softened impossibly further. Gentle hands stroked carefully along trembling backs while she shushed them quietly. “There is nothing to panic about…”
Tamtey watched silently. He had never seen someone touch creatures like this. No fear. No dominance.
Only tenderness. Like every frightened thing instinctively ran to her for safety.
(Y/n) finally stood again and gestured lightly for him to follow.
The climb up the cliffs passed mostly in silence.
She moved carefully across the rocks, occasionally glancing back to ensure he was still behind her. At the top, the resistance base became visible through the trees.
(Y/n) pointed toward the right. “If you head that way,” she said quietly, “you will find the base.”
Tamtey looked toward her. “Where are you going?”
Her gaze drifted back toward the forest below. The distant sounds of frightened animals still echoed faintly beneath the waterfall. “I still have many frightened critters to take care of.”
“My sanctuary is further in the woods.”
Tamtey nodded slowly.
Then she added quietly, “Do not look to visit me.”
Before he could answer, she turned and walked away.
And almost immediately—Creatures emerged from the forest after her.
Like shadows following sunlight.
So’lek was waiting near the entrance to the resistance base when Tamtey finally reached the top of the cliffs. Arms folded. Expression unreadable. Though his eyes flicked briefly toward the forest behind Tamtey.
Tamtey noticed it immediately. “She is strange,” he said as he approached.
So’lek began walking again without comment.
Tamtey followed beside him.
“She has always preferred the company of animals to most living beings,” So’lek answered after a moment.
That sounded less like an insult and more like a simple fact.
Tamtey glanced back toward the distant woods. “Have you been to her sanctuary?”
“Yes.” So’lek stepped over tangled roots near the pathway leading toward the old human structure built into the cliffside. “She does not like visitors.”
“Because of the animals?”
“She does not like the creatures in her care being frightened.”
Tamtey remembered the way the forest had gathered around her. The way hammerheads rested against her hands. The way frightened hexepede had run to her like children seeking comfort. “They seemed to adore her.”
So’lek went silent again. Not dismissive. Not disagreeing. Just quiet.
Like there was more to say and he had decided not to.
The base entrance finally came into view ahead.
Metal doors.
The outer door remained sealed shut, though movement was visible through the thick glass. Priya. She was inside speaking rapidly while gesturing wildly at them through the window.
Tamtey could not hear a word.
So’lek sighed heavily. “It is soundproof, Priya,” he groaned.
Priya blinked. Then held up a single finger dramatically before suddenly turning and sprinting deeper into the base.
Tamtey stared after her. A moment later the outer doors hissed open. The two stepped inside the airlock chamber. The doors sealed behind them with a heavy metallic thud. Then came the familiar process. Pandoran air vacuumed out slowly with a low mechanical hiss.
The pressure shifted slightly around them.
Tamtey glanced sideways toward So’lek.
The older warrior stood motionless. But his mind clearly seemed elsewhere.
The inner doors finally slid open.
Warm light spilled out from the resistance base. Human voices. Movement. Life.
So’lek walked inside without hesitation.
Tamtey followed after him slowly.
And as he did—He realized something. Something strange sat between So’lek and (Y/n). Not hatred. Not exactly friendship either.
Like two people pretending not to care about each other while constantly looking over their shoulders anyway.
Slowly the frightened creatures began emerging from hiding the moment her scent returned to the sanctuary. (Y/n) exhaled softly as she stepped back beneath the tarp shelter, finally unslinging the rifle from her shoulder. She hated carrying that thing. The gun was carefully tucked back beside her bedding where she would not need to look at it anymore.
Only then did some of the tension finally leave her shoulders. She crossed toward one of the hollowed trees near her camp and crouched slightly. “Ulrr,” she called softly.
A tiny excited trill answered immediately. The baby prolemuris practically launched himself out of the hollow and onto her chest, tiny limbs wrapping around her instantly as though he had been abandoned for years instead of sixty minutes.
(Y/n) laughed quietly. “Oh, dramatic little thing…”
Ulrr chirped indignantly and clung harder.
“Yes, yes. Cruel abandonment. Very tragic.” She dug through one of her pouches and produced a small piece of fruit. Ulrr immediately snatched it from her hands and began eating happily while perched against her shoulder.
“You forgive me quickly for someone so betrayed.”
The prolemuris ignored her entirely in favor of the fruit.
Then came the scrambling sound of tiny paws. The viperwolf pups burst from their den the moment they spotted her. Tails wagging wildly. Tiny snarls and excited whining echoed through the clearing as they bounded toward her all at once.
(Y/n) immediately knelt to gather them against her chest with a bright laugh. “There are my babies…”
One tried climbing directly onto her shoulder. Another attacked the strings hanging from her top. The third simply shoved its face beneath her chin demanding affection immediately. “You are all terribly needy.” The words dripped with fondness.
Around the sanctuary more creatures slowly emerged into the open now that the danger had passed. Hexepede wandered cautiously from beneath the roots. A sturmbeast lifted its head from beneath the tarp. Several fan lizards fluttered down from the branches overhead.
Even one of the hammerheads could be seen lingering further back amongst the trees, watching quietly.
The sanctuary settled again. Safe
(Y/n) carefully set the pups down before returning to the sick creatures beneath the shelter.
One of the hexepede whimpered weakly as she approached.
“Shh… I know…” She settled beside it carefully, supporting its head while slowly guiding more of the dapophet mixture toward its mouth. “There you go… just a little more…”
The creature drank shakily.
Nearby the viperwolf pups tumbled over each other at her feet, growling ferociously despite barely being larger than her forearm.
Ulrr sat perched on her shoulder watching them like an offended king.
(Y/n)’s heart softened painfully at the sight. So much life. So many fragile little things depending on her.
The thought terrified her sometimes. But she would rather carry that fear than abandon them.
Eventually (Y/n) retrieved a small crudely carved pan flute.
She adjusted Ulrr carefully against her shoulder before lifting the instrument to her lips.
Soft notes drifted through the sanctuary. Gentle. Warm. The melody wound through the trees like flowing water.
The effect was almost immediate. The restless young quieted first. The viperwolf pups stopped wrestling and curled together near her knees. A frightened hexepede slowly relaxed into the moss bedding. Even the sturmbeast’s strained breathing eased slightly.
(Y/n) kept playing softly.
Eyes half-lidded.
Surrounded by creatures that trusted her completely.
And one by one the sanctuary settled peacefully around its keeper.
Many words came to mind when So’lek thought of (Y/n).
Dreamwalker.
Demon in stolen skin pretending to belong amongst a people and world that were not hers.
Stupid was another word.
Stupid enough to live alone in forests crawling with predators and RDA patrols alike. Stupid enough to carry only a single rifle she clearly despised using. Stupid enough to remain far from the resistance base despite how quickly patrol routes could change.
She should have stayed behind reinforced walls where humans belonged. Yet she insisted on remaining here. Caring for wounded creatures no one else would spare a second glance toward.
That…
That he could admire.
Even if he refused to say it aloud.
The deeper So’lek moved through the forest, the quieter it became around him.
Not fearful quiet. Peaceful quiet.
Then came music. Soft flute notes drifted between the trees, carried gently through the night air.
So’lek slowed instinctively.
The melody was simple. Rough in places. But warm. Gentle.
As he stepped silently into the clearing, the sanctuary revealed itself once more beneath flickering lantern light and hanging tarps.
And there she was. (Y/n) sat cross-legged amongst the creatures with the small pan flute raised carefully to her lips.
The viperwolf pups slept curled against her thighs. A baby prolemuris clung sleepily to her shoulder. Several hexepede rested nearby no longer trembling with panic. Even the sturmbeasts looked calmer beneath the dim shelter light.
Around her, stronger creatures lingered p at the edges of the clearing.
The hammerheads stood further back amongst the trees like silent sentries. And every single creature listened to her music.
So’lek remained still in the shadows. Watching. The young. The frightened. The sick. All settled at her feet.
The strong steadied by her presence.
Gentle.
That was another word he could use to describe her.
Painfully gentle.
Too gentle for this world. Too soft for war. She would stop to save a dying animal while the sky burned around her.
Would probably apologize to a viperwolf for stepping on its tail moments before getting herself shot trying to protect it.
(Y/n) lowered the flute slightly as one of the pups stirred in its sleep. Immediately her hand moved to soothe it without thought. Soft strokes behind tiny ears. A whisper too quiet for him to hear. The pup settled instantly.
So’lek’s gaze lingered on her longer than intended.
Because despite the danger surrounding her—She still chose healing first. Not violence.
The thought irritated him more than it should have.
The final notes of the flute drifted softly into silence.
For a moment the sanctuary remained perfectly still.
Then (Y/n)’s ears twitched slightly. She lowered the pan flute from her lips. “…Well,” she said lightly without looking up, “if it is not Pandora’s oaf.”
From the shadows at the edge of the clearing, So’lek stared at her blankly. Expression completely unmoved.
The hammerheads glanced toward him briefly before immediately losing interest again. Several hexepede recognized his scent and simply settled back down into the moss. Even the viperwolf pups barely reacted.
Apparently he had been around often enough not to alarm them anymore.
(Y/n) noticed. “You keep sneaking around my sanctuary like a very large, angry viperwolf,” she murmured, setting the flute aside carefully.
“I was not sneaking.”
“You were literally standing in the shadows watching me.”
“I was observing.”
She blinked slowly. “That is somehow worse.”
So’lek folded his arms. “You should not remain out here alone tonight.”
“And hello to you too.”
“There are more patrols moving through the area.”
“Yes, I noticed the giant flying death machines earlier.” Her sarcasm rolled off softly, absent-minded rather than cruel.
“You continue to treat danger like an inconvenience.”
“And you continue to collect bullet wounds like trading cards.”
A viperwolf pup climbed directly into her lap. She scratched behind its ears automatically.
So’lek’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You are impossible.”
“Oh no,” she deadpanned quietly. “The terrifying warrior is frustrated. What a tragedy.”
“You mock everything.”
“I cope through humor.”
“You cope poorly.”
She gasped softly in mock offense. “That was almost a joke.”
“It was not.”
“Close enough. I am proud of you regardless.”
So’lek gave her a long flat stare. The kind most people would probably find intimidating.
(Y/n) simply looked back at him while a baby prolemuris clung upside down from her shoulder chewing on her hair.
One of the hammerheads shifted closer behind her protectively. The entire scene looked absurd.
So’lek exhaled slowly through his nose. “You should come back to the base.”
Immediately she grimaced. “Too loud.”
“There are defenses.”
“There are also people.”
“You are people.”
She pointed vaguely toward the surrounding creatures. “These are people too.”
“That is not what I meant.”
“I know.”
The teasing faded slightly from her voice then. Just enough for the quietness beneath it to show.
The sanctuary fell calm around them again. The sick creatures resting. The younger ones asleep.
So’lek looked at her for another long moment. At the way frightened things gathered instinctively around her. At how relaxed the creatures became simply because she was near. Then he finally spoke again. “You are reckless.”
(Y/n) smiled faintly. “And you are grumpy.”
“I am serious.”
“So am I.”
“You stomp around like a disappointed father hammerhead.”
One of the viperwolf pups sneezed.
So’lek looked entirely unimpressed.
(Y/n) snorted quietly into her hand.
For some reason that only seemed to annoy him more.
Finally he turned toward the forest again.
“You should sleep.”
“You should stop getting shot.”
Without looking back he answered flatly—“I was shot once.”
“You were shot once this week.”
“I regret coming here.”
(Y/n) smiled to herself as she reached for the flute again. I win.
So’lek disappeared back into the trees without another word.
But the creatures barely reacted to his departure.
As though they already knew—He would come back again eventually.
(Y/n) scratched gently behind Fllo’s ears while the pup sprawled dramatically across her legs. “Yes,” she murmured solemnly. “He is very fun to mess with, is he not?”
Hllo immediately climbed half into her lap demanding equal attention. Ewi bit Fllo’s tail. Chaos erupted instantly.
(Y/n) sighed softly. “Children.”
Ulrr perched comfortably atop her head chirped in agreement while stuffing another piece of fruit into his mouth.
Fllo let out a huge sleepy yawn, nearly falling over afterward. The others quickly followed.
Tiny bodies growing heavier against her as the sky beyond the tarp slowly darkened into deep blues and glowing forest light.
(Y/n)’s expression softened.
“Yep,” she whispered. “Time for bed.”
One by one she gathered the pups into her arms and headed toward her little camp tucked beneath the trees. The sanctuary had begun settling for the night around her.Sturmbeasts shifting quietly into the moss. Hexepede curling together beneath roots. The distant heavy rumble of one hammerhead somewhere deeper in the woods.
Ulrr climbed down from her head to curl against her shoulder while she settled onto her bedding beneath the tarp roof. Fllo immediately sprawled across her stomach. Hllo curled against her hip. Ewi wedged himself stubbornly beneath her arm.
“You are all terrible bed hogs,” she informed them quietly. The pups ignored her completely. (Y/n) smiled faintly and leaned back against the blankets, staring up at the tarp ceiling overhead while soft forest light danced against the fabric.
Outside, creatures slowly settled into sleep one by one. Occasional distant calls through the jungle night.
Her sanctuary.
The place where frightened things came to feel safe.
Ulrr gave one final sleepy trill before burying himself beneath her chin.
(Y/n) closed her eyes.
Consciousness returned slowly.
(Y/n) stared blankly at the ceiling of the link bed for several long seconds, breathing shallowly as exhaustion pressed down on her like stone.
Why did this body always feel more tired than the one spending entire days hauling medicine, tending injured sturmbeasts, and chasing baby viperwolves through mud?
Her avatar should have been the exhausted one. Not this body. Her eyes burned painfully. Dry. Every blink felt scratchy from chronic sleep deprivation she kept pretending was temporary. Her head pounded behind her eyes in slow miserable pulses.
Too much linking.
Too little sleep.
Again.
She groaned softly and pushed the lid of the link bed upward with shaking hands. Even that felt difficult. Her limbs felt unbearably heavy as she slowly sat upright, rubbing at her eyes with the heels of her palms.
For the first few seconds she instinctively expected to see the sanctuary tarp overhead. Lantern light. Trees. Sleeping animals curled around her.
Instead— Sterile ceiling panels stared back. Metal walls. Cold artificial light.
Immediate tightness clenched painfully in her chest. Human body.
Again.
The realization settled like dread. Her mouth was dry. She had forgotten to drink enough water before linking again. Probably forgotten to eat properly too.
Not unusual anymore.
Her hands shook faintly when she pushed herself to the edge of the pod.
Everything about this body felt wrong now. Too small. Too dull. Too fragile.
She stood unsteadily and immediately felt the ache in her back, neck, and joints from spending so many hours confined to the bed.
Her muscles protested every movement.
Her hearing felt muted. Her eyesight dull. Blurry compared to what she was used to.
It always took a few horrible moments for reality to settle back in.
Human.
Human.
Human.
The panic came briefly every single time.
Which body am I in?
Where am I?
Her eyes snapped toward the monitor setup beside the bed before she had even fully woken. Immediately. Instinctively. The sanctuary cameras flickered softly across the screens.
Her avatar slept beneath the tarp with the pups curled against her. Ulrr tucked beneath her chin. Several larger creatures resting peacefully nearby.
(Y/n)’s chest loosened slightly at the sight. Still safe. A soft animal noise crackled faintly through the monitor speaker.
Her heart spiked instantly. She leaned closer immediately searching the screen for movement until she realized it was only one of the sturmbeasts shifting in its sleep.
(Y/n) exhaled shakily.
God. She was so tired.
Yet guilt immediately followed. Sleeping meant time away from them.
Time something could happen. Time medicine could be missed. Feeding schedules delayed. Wounds worsen.
Her brain was already calculating automatically.
How quickly could she eat?
Drink water.
Relink.
Maybe twenty minutes.
Less if she skipped food.
Again.
The thought should have concerned her. Instead it comforted her.
Outside the pod she always felt trapped. Restless. Like she was wearing the wrong skin. Her attention drifted constantly toward the monitor audio even while she stood there barely awake.
Half expecting danger. Half expecting screaming. Something approaching through the trees she would have sensed immediately in her avatar.
Here she felt blind. Deaf. Disconnected.
The worst part was not knowing.
The gleam of the monitors caught her reflection.
(Y/n) paused.
Like she was looking at someone else entirely. Sunken eyes. Exhaustion carved into her face. Hair a mess from the pod.
She barely recognized herself anymore. The avatar felt more real. More like home.
A horrible tiny flash of fear crossed her mind suddenly.
What happens if one day I physically cannot link anymore?
The thought made her stomach twist violently.
No.
No, she could not think about that. Not now. Not ever.
(Y/n) stared at the screens for another long moment, dread still sitting heavy in her chest because in this body—
She could not sense danger coming. Could not hear distant movement. Everything felt muted and far away.
But they were sleeping soundly.
Finally she stood properly, stretching stiff aching limbs with a quiet wince as exhaustion settled deeper into her bones.
And already—She wanted back in the pod.
(Y/n) grabbed a ration pack from the small storage shelf beside the pods. She barely tasted it. Her attention remained fixed on the sanctuary monitors while she ate slowly, curled into the chair with a blanket draped over her legs.
The screens glowed softly in the dim room. Fllo, Hllo, and Ewi remained piled on top of her sleeping avatar in a tangled heap of paws and tails.
Ulrr was still tucked beneath her chin. One of the sturmbeasts lifted its head occasionally before settling again.
Everything looked calm. Still, she watched. Anything could happen.
Those babies were defenseless without her there. The thought alone made anxiety sit sharp beneath her ribs.
The door hissed open behind her. Alma stepped inside carrying datapads beneath one arm. “You’re back earlier than usual,” she noted.
(Y/n) only gave a tired little hum in response without looking away from the screens.
Alma followed her gaze. “You should come meet the Sarentu,” she said after a moment. “They’re our new allies.”
“Maybe a bit later,” (Y/n) answered quietly. Truthfully the idea of meeting new people sounded exhausting right now. Too many questions. Too many eyes on her.
Alma stepped further into the room. “You cannot isolate yourself forever”
(Y/n) took another bite of the ration slowly. “Mhm.”
“And keeping all those animals dependent on you is not healthy.”
That finally pulled a reaction from her. (Y/n) sighed deeply, rubbing tiredly at one eye. Here we go again. “It is not like I am capturing them and forcing them to stay,” she muttered.
Alma crossed her arms. “You practically live for them.”
“Well somebody has to.”
“That is not what I mean.”
(Y/n) gestured vaguely toward the screens. “Every single one of those animals I found injured, abandoned, sick, poisoned or dying.” On one monitor a hexepede shifted closer toward her sleeping avatar instinctively. “The adults choose to stay,” she continued quietly. “They choose to keep coming back.”
Her eyes drifted toward the sleeping viperwolf pups curled against her avatar’s stomach. “The babies depend on me.”
Alma’s expression softened slightly. “But you are not their parent.”
(Y/n) looked at the screens silently for a moment. Then shrugged one shoulder faintly. “Does not mean they do not depend on me.” Her voice stayed soft. Gentle. But exhausted. “So can you stop trying to nitpick what I am doing?”
The last part came out more worn down than angry. (Y/n) yawned mid-sentence and stretched stiffly in the chair, wincing slightly as her back cracked.
Alma noticed immediately.“You look awful.”
“Thank you.”
“I am serious.”
“So am I. I worked very hard cultivating this look.”
Alma gave her a look.
(Y/n) stared back sleepily. Then added dryly—“I call it ‘chronically exhausted swamp cryptid.’”
Despite herself Alma snorted quietly.
(Y/n) returned her attention to the monitors almost immediately after.Half listening. Half somewhere else entirely.
Her fingers tapped anxiously against the ration wrapper while her eyes tracked movement across the sanctuary screens. Always watching. Always listening. Even here. Even exhausted beyond reason..
Alma pulled another chair over with a tired sigh, clearly not finished with the conversation.
“If you insist on maintaining that sanctuary,” she began, “then there needs to be more structure.”
(Y/n) already knew that tone. Micromanaging tone.
“You cannot keep personally tending every single animal yourself.”
“Mhm.”
“You need rotation schedules. Observation distance. Controlled dependency. Rehabilitation protocols.”
(Y/n)’s eyes remained on the screens. One of the viperwolf pups had rolled directly onto Ulrr, who looked deeply offended by the situation.
“You should be limiting emotional imprinting too,” Alma continued. “Especially with the young ones.”
(Y/n) slowly looked over. “…Who is the zoologist here?”
Alma frowned.“You are emotionally attached.”
“Yes,” (Y/n) answered immediately like it was obvious.
“That is part of the problem.”
“No, the problem is poisoned rivers and trigger-happy soldiers.”
“You know what I mean.”
(Y/n) rubbed at her tired eyes again. “They are babies, Alma.”
“They are animals.”
“They are baby animals.”
Alma leaned forward slightly. “You are blurring lines.”
“And you are trying to turn living creatures into clinical checklists.”
“That is not fair.”
“No,” (Y/n) muttered quietly, “what is not fair is finding orphaned viperwolf pups crying beside their dead mother because somebody decided she made good target practice.”
Silence settled heavily for a moment.
Alma’s expression tightened.
(Y/n) immediately regretted sounding sharp. Conflict sat horribly in her chest. So she just sighed quietly instead. “Fine.” Automatic surrender more than agreement.
Alma knew it too. Because (Y/n)’s attention had already drifted back toward the monitors again anyway.
A small smile softened her face watching the sanctuary screens. Fllo twitching in his sleep.A hexepede curling closer toward the warmth of her avatar. Ulrr stubbornly stealing blankets.
Her little critters.
Alma followed her gaze and exhaled slowly through her nose. She was not getting through to her tonight. Probably not any night.
The room fell quiet except for the constant low hum of machinery around them.(Y/n) hated that sound. Hated the filtered artificial air. The metal walls. The recycled coldness of human facilities.
Everything about it made her feel vaguely nauseous now.
Too sterile.
Too dead.
Nothing breathed here. No forest sounds. No warm earth beneath her feet.
Only machinery.
Even sitting here made restlessness crawl beneath her skin.
Her eyes grew heavier anyway. Exhaustion eventually winning over anxiety.
Slowly her head leaned against the side of the chair. Still facing the monitors. Still as close as possible to the speakers so she would hear immediately if something happened.
One hand remained loosely curled near the controls to the link pod.
Her breathing gradually slowed. Eyes slipping shut despite herself.
Alma sighed and left.
“How’d it go?” Nalin asked as Alma stepped out of the link room.
Alma rubbed tiredly at her forehead. “The usual.”
Nalin already looked like she knew the answer before it came.
“She left the link bed only long enough to eat rations and sit beside her monitors.”
Nalin sighed softly. “Maybe we should talk to Alex about making those monitors accessible from other places besides the link room.”
Alma snorted quietly. “If we put them in her quarters she may never sleep again.”
Nalin gestured behind Alma toward the room. “I do not think there is a difference anymore.”
Through the small window they could still see (Y/n) half-asleep in the chair facing the screens. Like she physically could not force herself further away.
Priya wandered over holding datapads beneath one arm. “Has (Y/n) come back yet?” she asked. “The Sarentu have met just about everyone except her.”
“Same spot as always,” Alma answered.
Priya peeked through the glass. Then sighed fondly. “Oh for the love of—” She stepped into the link room quietly.
(Y/n) startled awake almost immediately at the sound of the door opening, eyes snapping toward the monitors before landing on Priya.
“You should not be sleeping here,” Priya said gently.
(Y/n)’s gaze flicked instantly back toward the screens. “I am fine.”
“You are falling asleep sitting upright.”
“Mhm.”
“That is not a denial.”
(Y/n) looked exhausted beyond reason.
Priya softened immediately. “Take a walk. Get some sleep.”
(Y/n)’s attention stayed fixed on the sanctuary feed.
“I will wake you if anything changes.”
That finally made (Y/n) glance over uncertainly.
Priya smiled reassuringly. “Anqa is making me coffee anyway. I can sit here all night.”
“But I will wake you if anything happens to them. You cannot help them if you are this tired.”
Emphasis on you.
(Y/n)’s shoulders lowered slightly. Relenting. “…Fine.” She stood slowly, stiff and heavy-limbed from exhaustion.
Every step outside the link room felt wrong somehow. Too far away already. Still she headed down the corridor toward her quarters hoping desperately no one stopped her.
“(Y/n)!”
She nearly flinched.
Alex waved her over enthusiastically from further down the hall.
(Y/n) managed to hide most of the grimace that tried to cross her face before turning around.
“Come meet Teylan.”
A tall nervous-looking Sarentu stood nearby covered in gadgets and tech pieces. He looked at her uncertainly.
“Teylan, this is (Y/n). She is a xenozoologist.” Alex grinned. “This is a rare encounter since she is usually never far from wherever she can monitor her animals.”
(Y/n) wished very deeply for the floor to swallow her whole.
Teylan blinked at her. “You work with animals?”
“Yes.”
“Is that not dangerous?”
“No,” she answered quietly. “Even thanators can have kind souls.”
Why did talking to people feel harder than wrestling sturmbeasts sometimes?
Her limbs felt unbearably heavy. Everything hurt. She wanted to get to bed as soon as possible.
Teylan tilted his head slightly at her answer. He reminded her strangely of one of the frightened calves she sometimes rescued. All nerves. Clinging desperately to things that felt safe.
The gadgets hanging from him only reinforced the impression. Like armor.
Alex noticed the way she swayed slightly on her feet. “We should probably let you go.”
(Y/n) looked visibly relieved. Then paused. Words slipping out before she could overthink them. “If you would like… you could come meet them sometime.”
Teylan blinked. “Meet who?”
“The animals in my care.” Her voice softened automatically talking about them. “They are nicer than most people.”
Alex snorted.
Teylan looked surprised. Then thoughtful. “I… will think about it.”
(Y/n) nodded once. Then escaped before another conversation could happen. Thankfully nobody else stopped her on the way to her quarters. The moment the door shut behind her she practically collapsed toward the bed.
Shoes barely kicked off.
And the second her head hit the pillow— She was out like a light.
(Y/n) woke violently. Heart already racing before her eyes had even fully opened. Someone was shaking her arm.
“There is something wrong.” Anqa’s voice.
Immediate panic flooded her chest. (Y/n) was out of bed before she fully processed anything else. “What happened—?”
“The monitors— one of them—”
She did not wait for the rest.
(Y/n) sprinted barefoot through the base corridors, exhaustion forgotten instantly beneath adrenaline.
The cold metal floors slammed painfully beneath her feet.
By the time she reached the link room she was shaking.
The pod hissed open. She practically fell into it.
Hands fumbling. Breathing uneven. The lid sealed shut above her.
Darkness.
Then—Her avatar’s eyes flew open sharply beneath the tarp shelter. Immediate sensory overload hit her all at once.
The damp forest air. The scent of sickness. The restless shifting of frightened animals nearby. And then— The rasping.
Horrible wet choking breaths.
(Y/n)’s heart dropped instantly.
The pups startled awake as she sat up abruptly. “Down,” she whispered quickly, gently setting Fllo, Hllo, and Ewi onto the blankets.
Ulrr chirped in alarm as she lifted him carefully into his hollow. “Stay there, sweetheart—”
Then she ran. The tarp shelter came into view and immediately she spotted the hexepede.
Its sides heaved violently. Breathing ragged. Desperate. Another horrible rasp tore from its throat.
“No, no, no…”
(Y/n) dropped beside it instantly, pulling the creature’s trembling head carefully into her lap.
“It is okay,” she whispered shakily. “It is okay, I am here…”
The hexepede twitched weakly beneath her hands. Its breathing worsened. Every inhale sounded wet. Painful.
Its frightened eyes fixed on her completely. Trusting. Trusting she would save it.
(Y/n)’s throat tightened painfully. “Come on…” she whispered desperately. “Please…” She tried easing its airway. Tried steadying its breathing with gentle hands trembling harder every second.
But she already knew. The moment she felt the weakness settling deeper into its body—
She knew. “No no no…”
The hexepede’s breaths slowed. Struggled. Its body trembling weaker and weaker in her lap while she stroked gently along its neck.
“It is okay,” she kept whispering. Over and over. “It is okay… you are okay…”
The creature stared at her right until the end.
Then slowly— Its body stilled.
(Y/n)’s voice caught abruptly.
The sanctuary around her remained painfully quiet except for distant rain and the shifting of restless sick creatures nearby.
Her head bowed slowly. One shaking hand still resting against the hexepede’s neck.
Too late.
A soft whining sound pulled her attention away. The viperwolf pups stood nearby watching nervously.
Several other animals had gathered closer too. Watching her. Waiting.
(Y/n) swallowed hard and forced herself to look up toward the others resting beneath the shelter.
And her stomach sank. They looked worse. Far worse than before she slept. More labored breathing. More trembling. One sturmbeast barely able to lift its head now.
The toxins were progressing faster.
(Y/n) wiped quickly at her face with the back of her arm before rolling her sleeves higher.
No time. No time to break down. Not now.
She stood slowly amongst the frightened creatures, exhaustion already clawing at her bones again. But she reached immediately for more water. More herbs. More medicine.
“It is alright,” she whispered softly to the others despite the ache tearing through her chest. “I am here.” Her voice shook slightly.
The rain continued falling softly outside the tarp shelter as (Y/n) moved between the sick one by one.
She knew it was going to be a very long night.