Chapter Text
The interior of the Kame’tire Home Tree glowed low and amber, resin lanterns breathing softly against walls thick with living bark. Bioluminescent fungi traced the roots overhead like dim constellations, their light pulsing in slow rhythm with the tree’s breath. The air carried the scent of crushed herbs and sap, grounding and heavy.
The olo’eyktans and tsahìks stood upon woven platforms shaped from the living wood itself. The forest outside murmured faintly, but within the chamber, the only sound was the quiet rustle of beads and the distant hum of insects.
At the center of the gathering, a map had been etched into a stretched hide. charcoal lines marking RDA routes across the Western Frontier. Red pigment bled along one path in particular.
A convoy route.
Fuel transports escorted by AMP suits. A mobile supply chain running from a refinery outpost in the east to a forward depot carved too close to sacred wetlands.
“The Zeswa will strike the escort riders first,” the Zeswa olo’eyktan said, voice firm and direct. “We drive them from their machines and scatter the ground patrol.”
Ka’nat, olo’eyktan of the Aranahe, inclined his head slightly. “The Aranahe will wait in ambush at the canyon pass behind them. Their route will narrow. They will be forced into their weakness.”
Anufi traced one long finger along the red-marked route. “My people will hit the machines. The Sarentu should take to the skies, watch for the metal birds.”
The plan was measured. Coordinated. Careful.
And predictable.
Tamtey stood beside Ri’nela and So’lek, slightly forward without realizing she had shifted there. The Sarentu were listed as scouts… back up. support to the larger strike.
Her jaw tightened.
She stepped toward the hide map.
“The convoy will not matter,” she said, voice clear but not raised.
Several heads turned.
She knelt, pressing two fingers against the marked depot near the wetlands. “This is the weak spot.”
Silence settled into confusion.
“The convoy exists because of this forward depot. Fuel reserves are stored here before transport. If it falls, the route collapses. The refinery will redirect resources. The escorts will be recalled.”
She traced a curved line through the forest surrounding it. “There are blind points in their aerial surveillance. Patrol rotations thin during the third night cycle. I have watched them.”
Ka’nat’s eyes sharpened slightly. “You propose we abandon the convoy?”
“I propose we sever the chain at its root,” Tamtey replied. “A small strike force. Infiltration at night. Explosives placed directly in the fuel reserves before the next transport arrives. I could do it alone, less chance of being spotted.”
The chamber grew still.
The Zeswa olo’eyktan, Nesim, crossed her arms. “The depot is heavily guarded.”
“Yes,” Tamtey answered without hesitation. “Which is why they will not expect anyone to strike it directly. They prepare for ambush along the route. Not within their walls.”
The Kame’tire tsahìk studied her. “And if you are discovered?”
“Then we move before reinforcements arrive,” Tamtey said. “Extraction paths through the lower marshlands. Their machines sink there. Ikran can navigate it swiftly.”
A flicker of approval crossed one Zeswa warrior’s face. Others remained unconvinced.
Ka’nat stepped closer to the map. “You have scouted this yourself?”
“Yes.”
“And you would lead this strike?”
Tamtey rose to her full height. “I would.”
A pause.
Ka’nat’s gaze lingered on her for a breath longer than comfortable. Then, slowly, he turned his gaze.
Not toward Ri’nela.
Toward So’lek.
“And will you accompany her?”
The question hung in the air like mist before rain. It was not phrased as doubt, But it carried it. The implication was clear; bold plans required seasoned oversight.
The Anufi’s voice followed, soft as wind through leaves. “Youth burns brightly. It does not always see the wind that feeds it, Ma Yawntu.”
Several leaders shifted subtly.
Tamtey felt the shift in the room as tangibly as pressure against her skin.
She reluctantly, expectedly, looked to So’lek.
So’lek did not answer immediately.
He held Ka’nat’s gaze, posture straight, expression carved from the same stillness as the Home Tree itself. Fire light caught faintly along the ridges of old scars, but nothing in his face shifted.
Then he inclined his head once.
A single, measured nod. Agreement.
The air in Tamtey’s lungs turned hot.
“I do not require a babysitter,” she said, the sharpness escaping before she could soften it. “I am better suited to move alone. A smaller presence leaves smaller trace.”
A stir moved through the gathered leaders.
She stepped forward, pointing again to the marked depot. “If there is doubt, then let the Aranahe and Zeswa wait beyond the marshlands. If I fail, we attack together. If I succeed, the supply chain collapses.”
Ka’nat’s gaze hardened not anger, but steel.
“I will not risk Na’vi lives on bold ambition,” he said evenly. “Nor will I hold warriors in hiding to wait for your stumble.”
“It is not ambition,” Tamtey shot back. “It is strategy-”
A hand closed gently around her wrist.
Ri’nela. Subtle. Firm and pleading for Tamtey to weigh her next words carefully. Tamtey stilled, breath tight in her chest.
Across the chamber, Anufi regarded her quietly, voice soft but carrying. “You are a great warrior ma yawntu, but eagerness opens you to mistakes.”
The words settled like falling ash.
Tamtey swallowed whatever reply rose to her tongue. She looked to So’lek for support. He met her gaze briefly– stoic as always– before turning back to Ka’nat.
Another curt nod in agreement. Not fighting for her, or even voicing his opinion against her. Just silent. As if he holds no authority in this gathering.
Ka’nat exhaled slowly, as though sealing the matter within himself.
“Then it is decided,” he said. “The Sarentu will strike the depot.”
His eyes passed between them.
“Together.”
✫—————————————✫
The council platforms creaked as leaders and warriors began to descend, their voices fading into the living wood of the Kame’tire Home Tree. Torches dimmed as the gathering thinned, leaving only the faint hum of the tree’s breath and the distant forest outside.
Tamtey broke into a jog, weaving past the lingering council members, through the winding walkways, until she found So’lek crouched by the edge of the platform, tightening straps on his Ikran, íley. The beast’s blue-green wings shimmered faintly in the fire light, restless and eager.
“So’lek,” she called, striding up, chest heaving. “What was that? Why didn’t you say anything?”
He did not pause. His hands moved with calm precision as he checked the saddle. Then, without looking at her, he spoke.
“What did I need to say.”
It was not a question. It was a statement.
Tamtey threw her hands up in exasperation. “Gee, I don’t know– maybe some support? That I am capable?”
Finally, he turned. The wind caught at his hair and his eyes gleamed faintly in the amber glow. His gaze was sharp, even. “Are you capable? Or do you need support?”
It was infuriating. The inflection, the calm certainty– it was maddening. If she wasn’t so enraged, she might have recognized the lesson he was trying to teach her.
“That’s not the point!” she snapped. “Why does everyone see me as some extension of you? Just your noisy little shadow–”
He sighed, long and low, as if carrying the weight of all her troubles. Without another glance, he returned to Íley, adjusting a strap across the beast’s flank. “If you do not wish to be seen as an extension, then step ahead of me, Sarentu.”
Tamtey froze, staring at him. Her ears drooped like a scolded nantang and her tail slowed from annoyed flicks to tight surprise.
Not because he had said that, but because he hadn’t argued. The sentiment was not a reprimand. Not approval either.
It was like a challenge that she would have to prove. Right, or wrong.
“Unbelievable…” Tamtey hissed as she turned on her heels. Tail resuming the annoyed flicks as she walked to the other edge of the overlook platform and chirped, calling for her own Ikran.
Telisi screeched in excitement as she landed, eagerly butting her head into Tamteys chest, looking for affection. Her yellow eyes reflected disappointment as Tamtey gently redirected her shoving snout to mount her, making the bond swiftly. Understanding flowed through it, and Telisi narrowed her eyes and chuffed just as Tamtey released an annoyed sigh.
“Tamtey…” the gruff voice of So’lek carried over the space between them. She watched as he turned slowly with his arms crossed at his chest, mouth a thin line and brows furrowed. He hadn’t expected her to stop fighting so quickly.
Tamtey just rolled her eyes and Telisi spat a hiss before leaping off the platform, carrying the sulking Sarentu across the wind to outrun her frustrations. So’lek tsked and shook his head as he turned to Íley again, who gave him an unimpressed gaze. “That Sarentu,” he sighed while patting the Ikrans neck. “So quick to sulk. Come, ma Yawne. We will find them soon.”
The towering man perched onto Íleys back while making the bond, and bid him to fly home. They both knew Tamtey would come see them eventually.