"How is my favorite Gulkan doing?" Luak's mocking voice reached my ears, a constant reminder of what awaited me: teaching a dreamwalker—or in this case, an Avatar—the way of the Subaiya. It wasn't something I was particularly happy about, but I had been forced into it.
Even an hour after it happened, I still hadn't adapted to the idea of whatever it was I had to teach her. Should I teach her to hunt, to ride a Pa'li, to respect the balance? Or did I simply have to ensure she didn't die on her first day with us? God... or rather, Eywa forbid it, but carrying the guilt of being directly or indirectly responsible for her death was not something I wanted to bear.
I looked at him with a frown, seriously considering if it would be a good idea to feed him to Fang. "I am so eager to cure that woman's madness. Truly eager."
Luak apparently didn't catch the sarcasm in my voice, because his face lit up instantly. "Yes! That's the spirit! Besides, I'm jealous. I haven't even finished my training with my own Gulkan, and here you are, already conquering the rite of passage. Soon you'll become a Risak warrior, and now, you're even a Gulkan. What luck you have!"
Luak's words took me by surprise. It was clear that from the perspective of the other youths in the clan, my progress was unprecedented. They might even see it as normal, since I was to be the next Olo'eyktan and nothing less was expected of me—considering that Sukai, my father, became a Risak warrior several years later in life than I had.
I hadn't noticed it before, but subconsciously I had been comparing myself to my father. Perhaps traits of the "old Aleyx" were still leaking through. I, someone who had already lived through youth in my former life and had achieved the goals I set out for, shouldn't be worried about filling shoes of expectations that would be of no use to me. Yet, I continued to act that way.
It was something to keep in mind, lest more aspects of the old Aleyx continued to seep in and cause me to make catastrophic mistakes—especially here, where the Na'vi and humans were at war.
The atmosphere seemed to freeze for a moment. Conversations suddenly died down, and the only sound was the brief crackling of the fire we were sitting around. Looking up, I noticed Grace standing in a corner. She was no longer wearing her military pants and brown shirt; she was now dressed in Na'vi attire, though very different from other clans.
Unlike other Na'vi, the women of our clan wore tunics made of Crogylus silk—a species of spider with only six legs instead of the eight I was used to back on Earth. Their silk was incredibly resistant and waterproof; it could get wet without issue. Since the garments were custom-made directly onto the wearer's body, they didn't hinder mobility at all. While I called it a tunic, it was more of a sleeveless dress, fitted to the body like a second skin, leaving the back and upper chest exposed, and splitting at the hips like a pair of shorts.
They were very practical, and because the silk slightly reflected the surrounding colors when light hit the fabric, it offered a degree of camouflage, which was another plus.
But I was getting distracted. Grace stood there like a fish out of water, immediately becoming the eye of a hurricane of stares—some with reproach, others with suspicion, and some even with anger. It was clear they hadn't accepted her yet. I sighed internally, knowing it was my job to get the clan to accept her, and for that, she had to learn our way... a task for which I was, wonderfully, responsible.
Seeing it was necessary, I stood up and gestured for Grace to come over. She responded cheerfully, happy to find a way out of the awkward moment. She approached carefully so as not to further annoy the gathered members, making sure not to step on tails or hands while respectfully greeting everyone. Many didn't even return the greeting. Some even hissed at her.
Seeing this, I knew my task was harder than I thought. Changing the minds of a clan that had remained hermetic from the outside world for decades—and remained hyper-aggressive toward anything foreign—was going to be complicated. That realization only increased my discomfort.
"Hi, how's it going?" she asked with a smile. While I appreciated that she wasn't intimidated by the indifferent treatment, I knew she was interrupting the time of Sulkuf—the time for sharing stories of our day with friends and family.
I quickly took her by the shoulders and made her sit down. I went to the food area, took a bowl, and filled it with berries and Yerik meat, and filled a wooden cup with Talioang milk. I brought it to Grace, who accepted the food gratefully.
"My name is Aleyx yu Sakayo Myrel'kru. I will be your Gulkan. To put it simply: your life depends on me. Because of that, you will have to learn fast, or even with my help, Eywa will receive you into Her kingdom much sooner than you think."
I didn't sugarcoat it. Instead, I laid out the reality of what awaited her if she didn't learn. My mother may have spared her life, but that didn't guarantee she wouldn't die once it became clear she couldn't learn our ways.
She seemed to take my words seriously, aware of the danger. My opinion of her improved slightly; at least she knew how to listen. "As you know, my name is Grace. I'm a researcher and I head the Avatar Program—a program designed to learn more about you, about Pandora, about Eywa. And I am very happy to have been received by you."
I didn't answer immediately. I analyzed what she said. While she might truly want to learn, that drive wasn't just out of wonder for Eywa; it was to find a pressure point to gain an advantage over us. It was a common practice—the Spanish did it, the British did it, and even in modern times, spies fulfilled that function: exploiting weaknesses for potential confrontation.
But I decided to wait. For now, I would teach her, and I hoped Eywa would allow her to learn, otherwise, I would be wasting my time.
We continued eating, and I chatted with Luak and Ro'a, who arrived shortly after. Grace spent the time eating in silence and observing. Good—that would help her. Sometimes it was better to be silent and observant; that's what survival is about.
Once the Sulkuf ended, I led Grace toward the center of the Great Kelutral. The massive trunk was surrounded by thick, ring-shaped branches spanning hundreds of levels. That part of the Hometree looked like a honeycomb, with thousands of "vaults" embedded inside. These vaults were our sleeping areas; we didn't use hammocks.
Instead, we slept inside the tree. Each vault was coated with a type of secretion that felt like slime. The slime was actually tree sap, and it had minor healing properties that offered a restful sleep. "I want you awake early tomorrow, or you'll miss breakfast and won't have the strength for morning training," I told her as I urged her into her vault.
Grace hesitated at first, but after I assured her she wouldn't drown, she entered her vault backwards. The tree sap covered her as she went in, and it began to glow dimly, indicating it was occupied.
I took the vault next to hers. Entering backwards, I felt the light suddenly fade as I experienced a sensation like floating in the sea. Instantly, the sap began to glow with a dull light. Though my entire body was covered in the fluid, a bubble—like a breathing mask—formed over my face, providing oxygen for the night.
Feeling the sap's effects take hold, I let myself go, closing my eyes and resting, knowing that tomorrow would be a busy day.