The wind caught the high leaves of the communal tree, making the entire structure moan like a living thing. Mark stood at the edge of the balcony, his new blue skin prickling in the cool updraft. He felt taller than the world, yet smaller than he had ever been as a human.
Kìreysì stood a few paces back, cleaning a ceremonial knife with a strip of rough leather. He watched Mark with a clinical detachment, waiting for the inevitable flood of questions that always came from the "Dreamwalkers."
The Map of Souls:
"Where am I?" Mark finally asked, his voice still vibrating strangely in his new chest. "And who... who actually pulled me out of that jungle?"
Kìreysì didn't look up from his work. "You are in the high eaves of the Tayrangi. They are the People of the Eastern Sea, though this village is but a seasonal camp for gathering the sky-roots. It was a young scout, Saeyla, who found you. She saw the metal bird drop its 'egg' and went to see what the sky-people had discarded."
Mark rubbed his ribs, feeling the phantom pain of the fall. "Why did they keep me? The RDA... my people... they usually just kill anything they don't understand. Why save a ghost?"
"Saeyla saw your eyes," Kìreysì said, finally looking up. "She said they did not look like the eyes of the empty ones. They had the flicker of a fire that refused to go out. The healers say Eywa has a sense of humor, Sky-Person. They keep you to see what you will become."
Mark looked back into the lodge, watching the Na'vi move about their daily lives. He noticed the variations he hadn't seen before in his panic. Some wore the deep forest greens and browns he expected, but others were adorned with vibrant oranges, feathers from high-altitude birds, and intricate, wind-resistant weaves that looked almost aerodynamic.
"Why do they look so different?" Mark asked, pointing discreetly toward a group near the hearth. "The clothing... it's not all Tayrangi, is it?"
"Sharp eyes," Kìreysì grunted. "A group has come from the plains and the high peaks to trade. In this season, the clans meet to exchange what the earth gives for what the wind carries. Those you see are from the Windtrader clans—the Anurai and the Ti'nu."
The Windtrader Fever:
Mark froze. His tail gave an involuntary twitch, a sudden spark of his old human obsession flaring up. As a xeno-aviation specialist, he had spent years studying the theoretical flight patterns of Pandoran wildlife, and the Windtraders were the stuff of legend in his research papers.
"Windtraders?" Mark's voice rose an octave. "You mean the clans that live on the move? The ones who have mastered the high-altitude thermal currents? They're here? Right now?"
Kìreysì stopped cleaning his knife, his brow furrowing in genuine confusion. He stared at Mark as if the Dreamwalker had suddenly started speaking in tongues.
"They are here to trade salt and bone-whisps for the sea-silk of the Tayrangi," Kìreysì said slowly. "It is a simple thing. Why does your face twist so? Is there a sickness in your head?"
"You don't understand!" Mark said, pacing the length of the balcony with a newfound energy that made the healers hiss at him. "Their tech—well, their craft! The way they weave their sails, the way they understand the fluid dynamics of the upper atmosphere... they've done more with natural fibers than the RDA has done with carbon-poly alloys! If they're here, I need to see their gear. I need to see how they rig their Ikran for long-distance haulage!"
Kìreysì stood up, looking genuinely disturbed by Mark's intensity. "They are people, Sky-Person. Not... 'fluid dynamics.' They eat, they sleep, they hunt. You speak of them as if they are machines."
"No, no, it's respect!" Mark insisted, his eyes glowing with that familiar cyan hue as the System began pulling up his old research files on Windtrader migration. "It's the ultimate engineering! To fly without engines... it's what I've spent my whole life trying to solve."
[DATABASE SEARCH: WINDTRADER MIGRATION PATTERNS]
[CROSS-REFERENCING WITH LOCAL TOPOGRAPHY...]
[DATA CORRELATION: HIGH]
The Fleet of the Sky:
Kìreysì sighed, his tail lashing once in irritation. "You can barely walk without your 'Shadow' helping you, and you wish to speak with the masters of the sky? Truly, you are the strangest ghost I have ever met."
But the outcast saw the spark in Mark's eyes—a fire that didn't belong to a dying man. With a grunt of reluctant curiosity, Kìreysì beckoned for Mark to follow.
As they stepped out of the healing lodge, the sheer scale of the Tayrangi settlement hit Mark. They were hundreds of feet above the jungle floor, navigating a network of living bridges and woven platforms that spiraled around the massive trunk of a tree the RDA would have designated as a "Category-4 Bio-Structure."
"Watch your feet," Kìreysì cautioned. "The Tayrangi build for those with tails and claws. Not for clumsy dreamers."
They moved toward the northern edge of the village, where the canopy opened up to a massive natural shelf overlooking a deep canyon. This was the "port." And when they rounded the final curve of the trunk, Mark stopped dead in his tracks.
Anchored to the thickest branches by massive, silk-woven cables were the Windtrader vessels. They weren't just boats; they were masterclasses in bio-engineering. Lightweight, aerodynamic hulls made of hollowed sky-wood were fitted with vast, translucent sails that shimmered like dragonfly wings.
"My god," Mark whispered, his human mind reeling while his new eyes drank in every detail. "Those are gaff-rigged... no, they're lateen sails with adjustable camber. Look at the trailing edges! They're using living vines to distort the wing shape for low-speed maneuvering."
The System Scans:
Mark began to walk faster, his long strides eating up the distance until he was standing right at the edge of the docking platform. He was "fanboying" in the truest sense, his breath coming in short, excited gasps. He reached out a blue hand, not to touch, but to trace the lines of the nearest ship in the air.
As he did, the System responded to his intense focus. The cyan light in his irises flared, and a translucent grid erupted across his field of vision.
[OBJECT RECOGNITION: AERODYNAMIC CRAFT]
[INITIATING STRUCTURAL SCAN...]
[MATERIAL ANALYSIS: 88% ORGANIC FIBER / 12% REINFORCED CHITIN]
[CALCULATING LIFT-TO-DRAG RATIO...]
"Kìreysì, look at the rigging!" Mark pointed excitedly toward a mast that was clearly harvested from a storm-tree. "They're using the natural tension of the wood to store potential energy for sudden altitude climbs. It's a literal biological battery. The RDA spent fifty billion trying to simulate this with magnets, and these guys did it with a forest!"
The Windtraders standing nearby—tall, lean Na'vi with skin the color of a stormy sky—paused in their work. They stared at the strange, glowing-eyed Dreamwalker who was pointing at their ships and muttering in a staccato, alien rhythm.
"They think you are mad," Kìreysì whispered, standing close to Mark to act as a shield against the suspicious glares. "And I am beginning to agree. It is just wood and wind, Mark Turner."
"It's not just wood," Mark corrected, his HUD highlighting a series of complex knots in the rigging that the System was already cataloging as "Advanced Geometric Anchoring." "It's a symphony. And I want to know who the conductor is."
Kìreysì looked from the glowing-eyed hybrid to the silent, majestic ships. "Then come. The one who leads this fleet is not known for his patience with those who stare too long. If you wish to learn, you must speak."