(AN: Truthfully, I was gonna split this into two as the word count is like 2.6k or sm, but I decided NAH. Enjoy)
Dawn broke cold and pale over the forest canopy, the light filtering through thinning leaves as the hunters in training resumed their journey. The air felt different that morning, lighter and less crowded, as if Pandora itself were opening outward. Nussudle rode near the centre of the group, his direhorse steady beneath him, muscles shifting powerfully with each step. The aches of the previous day lingered, but they were muted now, dulled by purpose and the growing sense that they were leaving something behind.
Eytukan led from the front, guiding them along steep inclines where the forest floor rose sharply, and roots clawed through the soil like grasping hands. At times, the path narrowed to little more than a ledge, with caverns yawning open beneath them, swallowing sound and light alike. Nussudle forced himself not to look down, focusing instead on Eytukan's back and the careful placement of his direhorse's hooves. One mistake here would mean a fall that even Eywa could not soften.
As the hours passed, the dense forest began to thin. Trees grew farther apart, their massive trunks giving way to lower growth and open sky. When they finally breached the treeline, the change was sudden and breathtaking. Before them stretched a wide plateau of grasslands, rolling gently beneath the open sky. The wind swept freely here, carrying unfamiliar scents and the distant cries of creatures Nussudle could not see.
Beyond the plains, rising like a wall against the horizon, stood a truly massive mountain. Its sheer size dwarfed anything Nussudle had encountered before, its slopes scarred with stone and shadow. Above and beyond it, floating impossibly, were the Hallelujah Mountains themselves, suspended in defiance of gravity. Even from this distance, they felt sacred, dangerous, and alive.
The group slowed instinctively, awe cutting through their exhaustion. Eytukan raised his hand, signalling a brief halt. "Do not let the open ground fool you," he warned. "Predators hunt differently here."
They moved on cautiously, spreading out slightly as they crossed the plains. The grass brushed against Nussudle's legs, whispering with every step. It was there, in that deceptive calm, that the attack came.
A shimmer in the air resolved into motion as cloaked panthers revealed themselves, their bodies bending light, long snouts snapping as they struck. One slammed into Eytukan's direhorse, knocking him hard to the ground. Shouts erupted as chaos tore through the formation.
Without thinking, Nussudle urged his direhorse forward, driving it straight toward the nearest attackers. Hooves struck flesh with brutal force, crushing two panthers as they lunged for Eytukan. Screeches filled the air, sharp and piercing.
Around them, the fight spread, and the plains ran red.
Eytukan hit the ground hard, the breath knocked from his lungs as his direhorse reared away in panic. For a split second, he lay stunned, the sky flashing white above him as a cloaked panther lunged from the air, its outline warping like heat haze. Its wing-like forelimbs folded inward as it descended, claws extended for the killing strike.
Nussudle did not slow.
He drove his direhorse forward with a sharp cry, leaning low as the animal thundered across the grass. The first panther barely had time to react before it was crushed beneath iron-hard hooves, its scream cut short with a sickening crunch. The second twisted mid-air, attempting to evade, but Nussudle rose in the saddle and brought his spear down with both hands, the point punching through its skull as the direhorse collided with it. The impact nearly tore the weapon from his grip, but the creature fell lifeless into the grass.
"Eytukan!" Nussudle shouted.
His brother was already moving, rolling onto one knee and drawing his blade as another shimmer resolved into teeth and claws. Eytukan met it head-on, slashing upward and driving the panther back just long enough to regain his footing.
All around them, the plains erupted into chaos.
The cloaked panthers moved unlike anything Nussudle had fought before. They did not simply charge. They vanished and reappeared, their bodies bending light as they skimmed low through the grass or launched themselves into the air. Their long snouts snapped with terrifying reach, and their wing-like limbs allowed them to pounce from impossible angles.
One hunter screamed as a panther materialised behind him. The creature struck with merciless precision, jaws closing around his neck while its claws tore through his chest. The Na'vi was lifted from the ground and shaken violently before being thrown aside, his body striking the earth with a dull, final sound.
"Nef'ay!" someone cried.
The name tore through the group like a blade. Nussudle felt it hit him a heartbeat later, the reality of it crashing down even as the fight continued. There was no time to grieve. The Panthers did not pause for loss.
Eytukan barked orders, his voice cutting through the din. "Hold your ground! Do not chase them—watch the air!"
Nussudle obeyed instinctively, dismounting in one fluid motion as another shimmer swept toward him. He loosed an arrow at the moment the creature revealed itself, the shaft striking its shoulder and forcing it off course. It hit the ground hard, rolling, and Nussudle finished it with a spear thrust through the chest.
Across the field, Nayat'i saw Nef'ay fall.
The sight shattered something inside her.
With a raw cry, she broke formation and charged, spear raised, grief and fury driving her forward. Her attack caught one panther off guard, the blade biting deep into its side, but the others reacted instantly. Three shapes shimmered into view around her, circling, their movements calculated and predatory.
"Nayat'i, fall back!" Eytukan shouted.
She did not hear him.
Nussudle saw it all unfold in horrifying clarity. The way the Panthers closed in. The way Nayat'i's stance shifted as she realised, too late, how exposed she was. One lunged, snapping at her leg. Another launched from above, claws raking the air inches from her face.
Nussudle moved before thought could catch him.
He mounted his direhorse in a single motion and drove it straight into the encirclement. The beast smashed into one panther, sending it tumbling, then reared as Nussudle hurled his spear, pinning another through the throat. He leapt down, drawing his knife as the final panther lunged for Nayat'i.
bone met flesh. Blood sprayed hot across the grass as Nussudle plunged the blade upward beneath the creature's jaw. It convulsed, collapsed, and went still.
For a moment, there was only the sound of heavy breathing.
Nayat'i stood frozen, eyes wide, her spear trembling in her grip. She looked at Nussudle, shock and something else—hurt, confusion—flickering across her face.
"Stay with the group," he said sharply, not meeting her gaze. His voice was hard, controlled. "Do not break formation again."
The words cut deeper than he intended, but he did not take them back.
The fight raged on for several more brutal minutes. Slowly, painfully, the hunters gained ground. The cloaked panthers began to retreat, dragging their wounded away or vanishing into the shimmering air as suddenly as they had appeared. When the last of them disappeared beyond the tall grass, an unnatural silence fell over the plateau.
Bodies lay scattered across the field.
Eytukan moved first, checking each hunter in turn. When he reached Nef'ay, he knelt, placing two fingers against his neck before closing his eyes. The confirmation needed no words.
One of their number was dead.
The group gathered in a loose circle, weapons still drawn, eyes scanning the plains even as grief settled like a physical weight. No one spoke. The wind whispered through the grass, indifferent and endless.
"We carry him," Eytukan said at last, his voice low but steady. "We do not leave our own."
They fashioned a makeshift bier from spears and cloaks, lifting Nef'ay's body with reverence. Nussudle helped, his movements automatic, his mind distant. The image of the panther tearing into him replayed relentlessly.
As they prepared to move again, Nussudle felt the familiar flicker of the system at the edge of his awareness, briefly noting combat experience gained, threats survived, and instincts sharpened. He ignored it.
Some things could not be measured.
They continued across the plains more slowly now, formation tighter, silence unbroken. Above them, the massive mountain loomed closer, its shadow stretching across the grass. Beyond it, the Hallelujah Mountains hung in the sky, closer now, immense and impossibly distant all at once.
Nayat'i walked several paces behind Nussudle, her head lowered, her earlier fire reduced to quiet shame. She did not speak to him, and he did not turn back.
By the time they found a place to rest as the sun dipped low, exhaustion weighed heavily on every step. The second day of their journey had taken more than blood.
It had taken certainty.
And the mountains were still ahead.
They made camp at the foot of the great mountain's shadow, where the grasslands finally surrendered to broken stone and stubborn shrubs that clung to the earth as if defying gravity itself. Eytukan chose the site with deliberate care: elevated enough to see across the plains, sheltered by a shallow rise to break the wind, and distant from any obvious trails or dens. Even so, the group moved with tense efficiency, the kind born not of training alone but of experience painfully earned.
No large fire was lit. Instead, they used small, shielded flames cupped by stones, just enough to warm stiff fingers and dry damp gear. The smell of blood still clung to them, sharp and metallic, and the wind seemed intent on carrying it everywhere. Nussudle sat apart from the others, cleaning his knife with a strip of cloth, his movements slow and methodical. The system flickered briefly at the edge of his awareness, offering a silent accounting of combat survived and experience gained, but he dismissed it without a second thought. Numbers felt meaningless beside the body wrapped carefully in cloaks nearby.
Eytukan was the first to speak, because silence left too much room for grief. "We honour Nef'ay tonight," he said, his voice steady though strained. "We speak his name so Eywa carries it. We remember who he was, not how he fell."
They formed a rough circle around the small flames. One by one, the hunters offered memories: a joke told during training, a boast after a successful shot, the quiet way Nef'ay had helped tighten a harness without being asked. Each memory stitched something back together that had been torn apart. When it was Nussudle's turn, his throat tightened. "He was brave," he said at last. "He held the line." It felt insufficient, but nothing would ever be enough.
When the words ended, they sat in silence. Above them, the mountain loomed like a dark wall, its slopes ridged with ancient scars. Higher still, mist curled around unseen ledges, drifting in and out of fissures like breath. Somewhere beyond those heights, hidden for now, the Hallelujah Mountains floated, and the thought of them made Nussudle's stomach knot. Iknimaya was meant to test courage, but this journey was already stripping them bare.
Nayat'i lingered on the edge of the camp, her eyes fixed on the ground. When the circle broke, she moved away to tend the direhorses, hands shaking as she adjusted straps that did not need adjusting. Nussudle watched her briefly, then forced himself to look away. He told himself it was discipline, that focus mattered more than comfort. The truth was harder to face: if he spoke to her now, the control holding him upright might fracture.
Later, as the others settled into uneasy sleep, Eytukan remained awake, sharpening his blade in slow, deliberate strokes. Nussudle approached quietly, careful not to disturb the camp. "You're bleeding," he murmured, nodding toward a gash on Eytukan's thigh where a panther had raked him.
Eytukan glanced down as if noticing for the first time. "It's nothing."
"It will slow you," Nussudle replied.
Eytukan's gaze lifted, sharp and assessing. "Then we move smarter," he said. "Tomorrow we climb. The plains are behind us. Up there, the air thins, and fear makes fools." After a pause, he added more quietly, "You did well today."
The words carried unexpected weight. Praise from Eytukan was rare, and tonight it felt heavier than pride. "Nayat'i nearly died," Nussudle said.
"She nearly got herself killed," Eytukan corrected. "Grief makes people reckless. You saved her. But you cannot save everyone from themselves."
Nussudle said nothing. He did not like how true it sounded.
Sleep came in fragments. Nussudle dreamed of shimmering bodies in tall grass, of teeth snapping out of nowhere, of a mountain splitting open and spilling fire. When he woke, the air was colder, and the sky held the pale grey of early dawn. Eytukan was already moving, rousing the group with quiet efficiency. They ate quickly, drank sparingly, and repacked with the practised motions of those who knew hesitation invited death.
As the sun rose, they began the climb along the mountain's lower ribs. The ground shifted from grass to rough stone, then to narrow paths carved by ancient water. Direhorses struggled at first, hooves scraping for purchase, but Eytukan guided them along switchbacks and natural shelves, choosing routes that avoided sheer drops. The caverns they had skirted the day before were replaced by cliffs and deep gullies that funnelled the wind into biting gusts.
By midday, the world below looked distant and unreal. The plains stretched like a painted cloth, the forest a dark line far behind. Ahead, through drifting mist, the first floating mountains came into view: colossal stone masses suspended in defiance of gravity, their undersides draped with roots and waterfalls that dissolved into vapour before touching the ground. The Hallelujah Mountains were closer now, and the air itself seemed to hum, as though their presence altered the rhythm of the world.
The hunters stopped, awed into silence. Even Eytukan's hardened composure softened for a heartbeat. "This is where the sky begins," he said quietly. "From here on, you watch every step. You watch your hands. You do not let excitement make you careless."
Nussudle nodded, feeling the pull of the heights deep in his chest. Somewhere above them, ikran nested along the cliffs, fierce and untamed, waiting for those bold enough to challenge them. He flexed his fingers around his bow, feeling the strength in his arm, and forced his gaze away from the dizzying drop. The trial was no longer an idea. It was above them, alive and waiting.
Behind him, Nayat'i stepped closer, as if she meant to speak. Nussudle kept his eyes forward. He heard her inhale, felt the words die unspoken, and sensed the sadness in the space between them. He did not turn. Not yet. If he did, he feared he might falter.
They climbed again, and the mountain drew them upward into mist, toward the sky and the trials that awaited.