The healing pod had become a world unto itself. Time passed differently there, measured not by the rise and fall of the sun but by the steady rhythm of footsteps, the soft murmurs of elders, and the careful hands of healers who returned again and again to tend to Nussudle's wounds. Vines were loosened and retightened, bandages replaced, ointments reapplied with meticulous care. Each visit was accompanied by gentle admonitions, reminders to rest, to remain still, to let Eywa's gifts do their work without interference.
Nussudle obeyed—mostly. His body remained weak, his injured arm still bound and aching, but his senses were alert, drawn outward by a growing tension that seemed to ripple through the Home Tree itself. Voices carried differently now, more urgent, more clustered. Warriors passed the pod entrance more frequently, their expressions focused, their steps purposeful. Even the forest felt as though it were holding its breath.
When Nayat'i entered, she did so with a barely contained energy that immediately set her apart from the healers. Her eyes were bright, alert, and filled with something between excitement and apprehension. She paused at the threshold, acknowledging the elders with a respectful nod before moving closer to Nussudle's side.
"They're coming," she said quietly, though her words carried weight. "The Wind Traders. Scouts spotted them not long ago. They'll arrive before the sun reaches its highest point."
Nussudle's heart quickened. Despite the dull throb in his arm and the lingering exhaustion that clung to him, his curiosity surged. "So it's true," he murmured. "I thought… I thought it might still be days away."
Nayat'i shook her head. "No. They move quickly, faster than most expect. Their windrays were seen circling the upper canopy. The elders are gathering everyone near the outer platforms." She hesitated, then added, more softly, "I thought you should know."
One of the healers, an older Na'vi with silver-threaded braids, turned sharply at that. "He should not be going anywhere," she said firmly. "His body is still mending. The wounds are closed, yes, but the strength has not yet returned. Another strain could undo days of healing."
Nussudle opened his mouth to protest, but Nayat'i spoke first. "He won't fight," she said. "He only wants to see. This is… important."
The healer's gaze flicked between them, lingering on Nussudle's bandaged arm and the determination in his eyes. "Importance does not outweigh wisdom," she replied. "Eywa teaches patience as much as courage."
Nussudle exhaled slowly. "I understand," he said, choosing his words carefully. "But this is the first time a clan like this has come so close. I need to see them. To understand." He paused, then added quietly, "Please."
The healer studied him for a long moment before sighing. "If you leave this pod, you do so under supervision. And you will not walk alone." Her gaze shifted pointedly to Nayat'i. "If he falters, you bring him back immediately."
Nayat'i nodded without hesitation. "I will."
With the healers' reluctant approval, Nayat'i helped Nussudle free himself from the supporting vines. The moment his feet touched the ground, a wave of dizziness washed over him, and he instinctively leaned into her. She steadied him with ease, her arm firm around his back.
"Slowly," she murmured. "You're not proving anything by collapsing."
He huffed a quiet laugh. "I was hoping to impress you."
She shot him a sideways glance. "You've already done enough of that for one lifetime."
Together, they made their way out of the Home Tree. The air outside felt different—charged, alive with anticipation. Na'vi gathered along the platforms and branches, their voices low and cautious. Warriors stood at the forefront, bows slung across their backs, spears held loosely but ready. Kamun was already there, his presence unmistakable, standing tall and composed as he surveyed the sky.
Nussudle followed his gaze upward—and froze.
Above the forest canopy, vast shapes moved with deliberate grace. Windrays, their translucent wings catching the light, flapped and hovered in slow, powerful rhythms. Beneath them hung carriages—intricate structures woven from organic materials, bound together with sinew and living fibers. These were not crude constructs but elegant ones, shaped to move with the air rather than against it.
Even more striking were the medusoids. Great, floating beings drifted alongside the windrays, their tendrils glowing faintly as they supported additional platforms and living quarters. The entire formation moved as one, a symphony of motion and balance that seemed almost unreal.
Nussudle's breath caught. Somewhere deep in his mind, fragments of old memories stirred—images of airships, of games and designs from another life. But this was different. This was alive.
"They're beautiful," he whispered.
Nayat'i nodded. "And dangerous, if provoked."
The Wind Traders descended slowly, carefully, as if acutely aware of the forest beneath them. Windrays banked and adjusted, medusoids lowering their burdens with astonishing precision. Leaves and branches swayed as the first carriage touched down on a reinforced clearing near the Home Tree's outer reach.
A hush fell over the gathered Omatikaya. Children clung to their parents. Hunters shifted their weight, eyes sharp and assessing. Kamun raised a hand—not in greeting, but in calm restraint.
From the nearest carriage, figures emerged. Tall, lean Na'vi, their skin marked with swirling patterns unfamiliar to the Omatikaya. Their attire was layered and functional, designed for the air rather than the forest floor. Some carried spears with curved blades, others bore staffs embedded with feathers and wind chimes that sang softly as they moved.
Nussudle felt Nayat'i tense beside him. "Stay close," she whispered.
They waited as the Wind Traders formed a loose semicircle, their posture open but alert. After a moment, Kamun stepped forward, his voice carrying clearly across the clearing as he spoke words of welcome and caution, invoking Eywa and the shared bond of the Na'vi people.
The Wind Traders responded in kind, their leader—a broad-shouldered elder with pale eyes—offering respectful acknowledgement. As formalities were exchanged, Nussudle felt a pull, an almost magnetic curiosity drawing him closer to the landed carriages.
"I want to see them up close," he murmured.
Nayat'i frowned. "You can barely stand."
"I can stand enough," he replied. "And I won't learn anything from back here."
She hesitated, then sighed. "You're impossible," she muttered, but she tightened her grip on him and guided him forward.
They moved slowly, carefully, weaving through the gathered Na'vi until they reached the edge of the clearing. One of the Wind Traders noticed them, his gaze lingering on Nussudle's bandages. After a brief exchange with another, he gestured for them to approach.
Boarding the flying ship was unlike anything Nussudle had experienced. The surface beneath his feet was firm yet subtly responsive, almost as if it adjusted to his weight. The interior of the carriage was open, airy, filled with softly glowing flora that pulsed in time with the medusoids above.
"This is… incredible," Nussudle breathed.
A voice answered him, calm and curious. "It is our home."
He turned to see a young Na'vi standing nearby, slightly older than himself, with sharp features and keen, observant eyes. His posture was relaxed but confident, and there was an unmistakable air of authority about him.
"I am Peylak," the youth said. "Eldest son of our clan's leader." His gaze shifted to Nayat'i, then back to Nussudle. "And you are not one of the warriors I saw earlier."
Nussudle inclined his head respectfully. "Nussudle. Hunter in training of the Omatikaya." He hesitated, then added, "Currently recovering."
Peylak's lips curved into a faint smile. "I can see that. Yet you still came forward. That speaks of curiosity—or stubbornness."
"Both," Nayat'i said dryly.
Peylak chuckled. "Good traits, in the right measure." He gestured around them. "You are welcome here. Few forest clans approach our ships so readily."
"I've never seen anything like this," Nussudle admitted. "The way you move through the air… It's as if you're part of it."
"We are," Peylak replied. "Just as you are part of the forest. The wind is our teacher, as Eywa is yours."
As they spoke, Nussudle felt the system stir faintly in the back of his mind, attempting to catalogue what it saw—structures, materials, movement patterns. Yet there were gaps it could not fill, things it did not understand. And for once, Nussudle found that he didn't mind. Some knowledge is meant to be learned slowly, through experience rather than being prompted.
"You came at an interesting time," Peylak continued. "Your clan stands at a crossroads. We sensed it in the air long before we saw your Home Tree."
Nussudle exchanged a glance with Nayat'i. "What do you mean?"
Peylak's expression grew thoughtful. "Change is coming. Not from us—but from beyond. The winds carry whispers, even across great distances."
Before Nussudle could ask more, Kamun's voice echoed from below, firm but controlled. "That is enough for now."
Peylak inclined his head. "Of course." He looked back at Nussudle. "We will speak again."
As Nayat'i guided Nussudle back toward the edge of the carriage, his body finally began to protest in earnest. His legs trembled, and his vision blurred slightly. She tightened her hold on him, her expression a mix of concern and quiet frustration.
"You've seen them," she said softly. "Now you rest."
He nodded, too tired to argue. As they descended back into the clearing, the sounds of conversation resumed around them—cautious, curious, layered with uncertainty.
From the healing pod later that evening, Nussudle could still hear the distant hum of the Wind Traders' ships, feel the subtle shift in the air as if the forest itself were adjusting to their presence. His body ached, but his mind raced.
This was no longer just about training or survival. The world was widening, and with it came questions he was not yet ready to answer.
As Nayat'i sat beside him once more, watching the glow of the pod's vines, Nussudle realised that his recovery was not merely physical. Something had begun to change—within him, within the tribe, and within the very winds that carried the future toward Pandora's ancient trees.
(AN: Hi guys so this will be the only chapter for today as im going out and im not gonna write and pre-read as knowing me ill leave some things which either dont make sense or are just completely rubbish. But i will post tomorrow, so have a great day and leave a comment so for now. Hayalovay :) )