Weeks passed.
Kaelen learned to move through the forest without stumbling. He learned to identify plants by their glow, animals by their calls, dangers by their silence. He learned to shoot a bow—badly at first, then better, then well enough to bring down small game.
But most of all, he learned Seri.
She was his teacher, his guide, his constant companion. And slowly, reluctantly, she began to trust him.
"You are not like the other sky-people," she said one evening, as they sat by a pool watching the bioluminescent fish swirl beneath the surface.
"How do you know?"
"Because they only see what they can take. You..." She glanced at him. "You are starting to see what is already here."
Kaelen thought of Thorne's words. In three months, we move. The deadline was approaching, and he still had no idea how to stop it.
"Seri," he said, "what would you do if someone tried to destroy Hometree?"
She looked at him sharply. "Why do you ask?"
"Just... wondering."
She was silent for a long moment. Then: "We would fight. We would die. But we would not surrender. Hometree is not just our home. It is our history, our memory, our connection to Eywa. Without it, we are nothing."
Kaelen looked at the pool, at the fish, at the glowing forest beyond. He thought of Thorne's smile. He thought of the fire.
"I won't let that happen," he said.
Seri studied him. "You speak as if you have a choice. As if the sky-people will listen to you."
"They won't. But maybe..." He trailed off.
"Maybe what?"
"Maybe I can find another way."
She was quiet for a long time. Then, slowly, she reached out and touched his hand.
"You are strange, Kaelen. Even for a dream-walker, you are strange."
"Is that good or bad?"
"I don't know yet." But she didn't pull her hand away.