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Dreamwalker
By : mancer
Category: 1 through F > Avatar
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Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar and I do not make any profits from this work.
Chapter List
- 9
- 10
Ted looked up from a particularly stubborn clump of feces. Txantslusam stood silently next to him, facing the ocean horizon. Ted set his make-shift chissel – a shoulderblade from some critter – and turned to see what caught his attention.

At first, the roughness of the waters disguised it. But there. Even years out of the red spandex, he easily picked out the splash of a distressed swimmer. Without hesitation he began struggling to release the ties of his waist cincher.

“Wait,” the scarred Na'vi said.

“Someone's drowning!”

“It is a first flight,” he replied, matter-of-factly. “Unlike Omaticaya, if our young fall their first try, they can swim back.”

“The currents are draggin him out!”

“It happens, if an ikran is now strong enough.”

The cold impassion reminded him of some of the animal behavioral scientists; observing the ebb and flow of nature around them, but not a part of it. Never intruding on the “natural order of things.”

“Screw that,” he grumbled in English.

Ted climbed down a level and ran for the cliff that overhung the waves below. He couldn't undo the damn ties – the cords stiff from his sweat – but plugged out Nari's gifts from his hair while watching the struggling ikran pup. A long swim, and getting longer. He gaged a couple landmarks to give him direction and eyed the water directly below.

“Damn. Should have taken more cliff diving classes.”

Just to make sure, he gave himself a running start. With a last glance at the frantic splashes, and the hopefully deep water below, he swan dived.

Cold, deep water welcomed hi, rushing over in the surge of a wave. His body sliced down and away from the cliffs. Ted stayed underwater as long as he could, escaping the worst of the battering torrent of the waves on the rocky cliffs. He felt the forces tug and pull, but the Avatar body felt designed for this kind of work.

He barely paused when he finally broke for air; a quick glance at the shore. The great curved tents, standing like Eywa's canines, marked the direction well.

Ted reminded himself to thank Nari for braiding his hair. The free stroke wasn't his favorite in the best of times, but it was fast; faster when his thick long hair didn't need to be constantly flicked out of his eyes.

The ikran pup wasn't at the spot he'd sighted. Ted tread water, letting the waves lift him higher. Where... where... please not sunk! He swam, head up, following where the current led. He shouted in Na'vi. He hoped... and then, there!

He dove under again and kicked for all he was worth.

The pup bleated a distress call. Ted followed it to the weak, thrashing creature.

“Crap. Now what do I do with you?”

Typically, in this situation, he'd approach from behind, and wrap an arm around – ideally catching the victim under one arm and the ribcage – and scissor kick back; the stroke worked well to keep a human head above water while still keeping his legs, and one arm, free to swim.

Having breathing vents down on the ribcage made everything much more difficult.

The pup's distress call escalated. Panicked.

Damn. Nothing for it but to try. Ted lunged forward and grasped the beast. For all his youth, he had a wiry, desperate strength and no apparent interest in being rescued. Ted held tight, kicking hard while forcing as much of the tyke's upper body out of the water as he could.

Any attempt at soothing words, in Na'vi or English, were lost between grit teeth and the waves.

After being twacked by a wing one time too many, Ted considered knocking him out with a right hook. Alright, not really, he grumbled, kicking in the general direction of shore, but severely tempted.

A series of louder screeches stopped the more violent thoughts.

“Great, and audience.”

The pup's struggles caught up again as seemingly every adult from the rookery circled overhead.

“Now the question is, are you watching for the hell of it or...” an ear bleeding scream shocked him so much the pup slid completely under for a moment. “CRAP!”

Ted got the ikran above the waves again, but not before the cries above took a decidedly angry turn. “Shit, shit, shit,” became his mantra as he struggled towards shore.

Ted kept an eye skyward and an eye on the jutting tents in the distance. He tried to not duck under the waves himself as the adult ikran started darting down in intimidating sweeps.

They're just trying to scare you away from the pup, he thought. They don't understand. It'll be okay. I'm not going to eat him!

His heart froze as the he heard little plops. Please, not stones.

When the next wave lifted them up, all he could see was adults grazing the watter all around him. Darting down, throwing their heads down, snapping those huge beaks right on the water's surface... those sharp... killer... teeth....

Never thought I'd rather see a shark in the water.

Ted's heart lept into his throat as another splash behind him warned him a moment before a surge of water overtook him. He struggled to keep the pup above the crest of the water.

“Crap!” One dove in! Thought of swimming away as fast as possible were stayed by a fresh distress cry.

Wouldn't an adult be able to swim back on her own? Or not be stupid enough to dive in if she couldn't?

“Double crap.” Even after the hundreds of nests Ted'd cleaned, he recognized that face.

Tanhi Taftxuyu. Star Weaver.

Ted turned to the violent thrashing.

The enormity, the impossibility, of trying to rescue not one, but two terrified ikran struck hard as he fought the last couple waves to get to the struggling older male.

And idea curled around the back of his brain.

“A seriously ill-conceived idea,” Grace's voice whispered. “If you're going to do something that stupid, at least do it quickly!”

Ted gulped down as much air as his lungs would hold, released the pup, and dove.

* * *

Disconnectedly, Rol'ei's voice, perhaps more the tone of his annoyance, about how dull, how empty the pa'li's mind, echoed in his thoughts.

* * *

The battle. Warriors and ikran aloft. Wind filling his wings. He flew more with the flock around him than the warrior on his back. He flew with joy in his heart.

Today would be the last day. His final song grew in his breast. His rider's certainty a solid lump in her heart.

When the Last Shadow called, all has answered. He was this hunter's second ikran; she his fourth hunter.

They had chosen... no, wrong feeling... touched only this morning. Sorrow over the other ikran filled this woman's heart. Too familiar sorrow. She wished to fly into the ocean with him. Duty brought her to this battle.

The thmthmthm demons came to sacred air. He defended. They bit and spit shards of acid. He flung himself bodily into their hallow cavities. Crunched the little demons within.

Attattrattatt they bit into ikran flesh. Burning. Fire. One attatt deeper, sharper. Then, gone.

The woman fell limp into the forest deep below. He knew well the deep emptiness that touched his soul before she tumbled. There was nothing left of this hunter.

Starweaver fell from the thmthmthm. They did not follow as he spiraled down.

Almost, he let his body crash unimpeded into the trees below.

Salt of Eywa's sea called to him.

No. He would not die here.

His mighty wings groaned under the strain as he turned back to the nests.

* * *

Ted gasped for air; half lost in the pain of loss.

Damn Rol'ei, he thought, wrestling with the tendrils of his queue back into place.

“Surface!” He shouted. Just stay-

* * *

Fight. Fighting hunter and...

He needed to fight. To feel the wind under his wings. To feel the blood of his prey in his jaws. Slick over teeth and tongue. Face covered in the oily heat of their death.

His hunter recoiled.

A timid one. Barely a hunter.

This one feared the water. That suited Starweaver. They hunted over land, picking off angtsik in packs. His blood sang with the heat.

The third forever pulling him back, giving the kill to another pair, always urging him to return to the rear of the pack, keeping him behind the action. Until a straw arrow fouled his wing mid-turn.

Falling took forever. They flipped tail over gills again and again, until the hard rocks below caught them. The winds dragged his body onward, scraping them several longs until they finally stopped.

His body immobile. Crushed.

No. Now his body, his hunter.

Starweaver struggled against the connection. Pain, unstoppable, unbearable pain, crippled him. Fear washed over the tsahaylu.

Vaguely, he heard the others land around him. Hands touching, trying to roll him. He screamed, lashed out.

Darkness. Numbness.

He felt the endless voice haunting him. Real fear took his heart.

Then... nothing.

Starweaver turned.

This blood so sickening. So repulsive. This crunch of bones so alien.

He pulled. His queue stuck... interviewing with...

Calm, sure hands grasped their frozen connection, separating forcefully before his panic could overtake him.

Familiar ikran bodies pressed in against him, whispering of sorrow. Accident. Forgiveness.

The Na'vi spoke. He did not hear.

He watched from afar as they brought the empty shell, the broken body, back to the nests. Flew for days over the ocean. Skimmed the surface with beak and wingtip. The deep calling to him...

* * *

“Above the surface!”

So hard to stay in his body. A font of information open like an encyclopedia. Hell, the fucking Oxford English Dictionary. Unabridged edition. Tantilizing him to simply sink down into the warm welcome depths...

* * *

Warm arms wrapped around his muzzle.

She connected their tsahaylu so he could feel the little life burgeoning within.

The pregnancy had been difficult. Her mate worried. The tsahik recently passed.

The only way she flew now was through his memory. They relaxed, stretched out in the grass, warmed by the sun. Starweaver sang his memories for her, taking her over the ocean, the plains, the forests.

She gave him the songs of her love. Of healing. Gentle songs that soothed his soul.

The niggling pain in her belly she ignored at first, singing stronger to him. Singing to remind him, tell him over and over, to keep flying, surviving.

She clutched at the egg in her belly. She'd explained that her belly was the egg. The thought absurd, strange. The pain, however, very real.

Her mate's forbidding flight echoed in their twinned minds.

She clutched his nose, so he could lift her to swollen, painful feet.

Arm over his neck, they waddled slowly, until the others heard their mingled cries of distress. Her mate ran to collect her.

Starweaver followed to the edge of the na'vi nests. They kept him from her.

He never saw his second hunter again.

* * *

Tears ran down Ted's face. Tears Starweaver could never shed.

The big ikran supported them now, soothed by memories of love. Soothed until one of the flying ikran splashed all three of the castaways with a forceful smack of beak and hindwings on water.

* * *

His first makto... so long ago.

A young na'vi had snuck into the ikran nests. A dare. A prank.

Starweaver found him raising his nest. Stealing dried shell shards. Practice arrow heads. Treasure.

When their eyes met, their souls touched. Closing the bond had only been natural.

He couldn't fly yet. Not with a makto.

His hunter's parents weren't happy when they found out. His friends envied him. A guard was put in the rookery to stop others connecting too early. Or Starweaver from trying to fly with his makto before he could carry him safely.

They played. They grew.

Then, one day, when he was nearly ready, he sat on the cliff's edge, watching the ocean. Far below, many young hunters swam from the lower beach.

Starweaver called out. A familiar figure waved up to him. His makto. His heart swelled with pride.

Young and strong, he made for deeper water. A courage challenge. Who could swim farthest. The young ikran vibrated with energy, wanting to be a part of the game.

In the deep water, something caught his eye.

A sudden flurry of wings.

Starweaver startled in the confusion, ducking tight against the rock face as the adults took wing.

Panic.

A voice whispered from deep ancestral memory Predator. Huge. Danger. Fly!

He took wing. Flocking with the others with no thought as to why.

But then... Oh wing. Oh sea!

That dark shape in the deep water. He could see it now. Giant fish.

The adults dove for the fish. Attacking. Driving. Luring it away.

Starweaver dove for his makto. Connected.

The boy shouted to the others. Go for the shore!

Resolution flooded through his brave makto. They could do it.

* * *

Another splash drew Ted back to the present. Hard.

Shit.

The ikran were going after the same huge fish-ting. His mind's eye supplied him with Starweaver's memory of the size. He shut his eyes tight a moment, trying to block out all that threat.

Swim. He had to swim.

The coastline was offered to him. Which beached were easiest to climb up. Best cliffs to dive from. Where the water gets to shallow for the creature.

Too much information.

Ted pushed aside the dark thought of sending Starweaver into the deep to draw the monster away.

No need to wonder where that thought came from.

Starweaver couldn't fly. His body had no reserves left. Getting out one last time had taken more than he'd had left.

Ted slipped the pup onto the ikran's back; thankfully the pup calmed once his grasping claws snicked tight around Starweaver's neck. His big lungs kept them both safely buoyant.

Ted dove under momentarily. The adults had the water too frothed up to tell if the creature was close. Probably kept them disguised as well.

You don't have to swim fast, an instructor's voice echoed up from his own past, slow and steady will get you home just as well.

Ignoring doom filled waters, he swam along Starweaver's neck. He refused to let go of the halo. Starweaver's flashes lasted ages and no time at all.

They moved painfully slowly. Ted felt every ache of the ikran's fatigued wings. He shoved, he cajoled, he yelled, forcing him on and on.

Ted only noticed the fear-stress's absence when it slowly leaked from the ikran's blood. Ted tread water a moment, trying to figure out the change.

Shallow water.

He looked around. Indeed, the color was lighter here. Maybe only twelve feet deep now. Shore close enough he could see individual people. So close!

The ikran still circled and splashed far behind them. Driving it off.

They swam the rest of the way as a sedate pace. Ted took the young ikran back once his feet could touch the bottom. Once they got to the wading depth, he pulled the exhausted pup onto his back. Starweaver struggled, first trying the usual hop to get through the hip deep water, then falling back to crawling on his wing knuckles.

Ted worried about how he sunk into the sang, but Starweaver was too fatigued to be concerned for himself.

The first step onto the small sandy beach embarrassed the hell out of him. Ted extracted himself from the pup's talons and set the little one on the damp sand.

He'd expected Txantslusam to be there, to help get the pup back up at least, but it seemed like the entire Ikran Clan filled the narrow stretch of sand. Hell, even the long path back to the plateau top had na'vi clustered watching.

All of that, though, didn't matter. In the center of all the chaos, an impossible face.

The Great Singer looked down on the beach. Hesitating to come forward. Confusion wrinkled his brow, his eyes shifting from Ted, to Starweaver, and back again.

Pariah. Outcast. Cursed one. Foul words covering frightened thoughts.

Ted looked back at Starweaver; surprised, and not.

Unlucky, perhaps. Not cursed.

Starweaver opened himself, so Ted could see through his sharp four eyes as if they were his own, dizzying him. What he wanted to be seen, however, was painfully clear: echoed throughout the ikran's life. Ever since he led his first makto to his death.

Ted fought back the shame he felt. Not his shame. Starweaver didn't need to feel shame anyway! He shouted silently.

The open dread on Rol'ei's face, however, he could not deny.

“Rol'ei, I-”

Before he could finish the thought, the singer had turned and retreated right back up the pack.

“Ted! Ted! Ted!”

Nari pounced from no where, hugging him tight enough to get him coughing.

“I brought the wagon!”

Ted smile, pealing her off. Behind her, Txantslusam held the lead for one of the pa'li.

“Yes, you did. Thank you.”

“We figured you'd be too tired to carry them both back up the cliff.”

Ted felt warmed by the offer. And surprised by the mild joke.

The crowd dispersed some, many following the Winger and leaving the strange dreamwalker to his craziness.

Nari bundled up the pup in the wagon, leaving the guys to handle the semi-suicidal ikran.

“Stay connected,” the scarred na'vi quietly reassured. “Bring him up to the back.”

Ted really understood Rol'ei's earlier complaints now. For him, however, growing up human meant ordering a highly intelligent animal around turned extremely uncomfortable.

“He doesn't... want to.”

Starweaver's eyes focused on the horizon. The stares of the people an uncomfortable press.

Release....

“He chose you-”

“He is reliving old pains. He's hallucinating from malnutrition.”

The na'vi weighed his words.

“I don't know,” Nari spoke up. “He looks better. He's got a purpose again. Come on! I'll hold the pa'li, you two get him up!”

Ted chewed on his lip a moment. He grasped their connected queue.

“I want you to help us get you into the wagon,” he said quietly. He could feel the understanding. The refusal. “You came to save us, and now you are too weak to go where you want to. If you eat, and rest, you will be strong enough. But first, we need to get you back to the nest.”

Txantslusam silenced Nari before she could protest. Ted concentrated very hard, trying to picture the great ikran flying romantically into the sunset, over the ocean, and away from everything. Irregardless that the sun set the other way.

Finally, assent.

With a bit of cajoling of the bystanders, they got him into the wagon. Ted climbed up as well, leaning against the side. Ted thanked them, then Nari for filling the wagon with sweet smelling dry grass. She grinned proudly.

“How'd you know I did it?”

The clods of dirt from where you pulled up the whole plants.

“I just figured something this thoughtful had to be your idea.”

When the na'vi guided dreamwalker, ikran, and pa'li back up and into the rookery, Ted was doubly thankful for the swaddling.

He rubbed the pup dry first to help keep him in the wagon. As soon as the other young ones were in view, he glided out.

Hopefully he's learned.

Ted smiled, wondering who's thought that was. This was certainly interesting.

Minute shivers overtook Starweaver by the time they'd gotten the wagon settled. Ted rubbed vigorously, dropping wet straw over the side as he went. Cold, exhausted. He needed hydration... nutrition... basic medical care. If he concentrated, he could even feel the bullets still stuck in his flank. Some of the care he could do, but he didn't have equipment for any of it.

Every time his mind wandered back to Rol'ei's facial expression, he focused all the harder on the task at hand.

His own muscles were shaking, he realized mid-reach for more dry straw. His hand tremored like a palsy.

Shock, maybe. Muscle fatigue, definitely. Supplements listed themselves in his mind's eye. All back at the station.

His hands gentled over some ugly puckered skin.

Attattatt.

Bullet holes.

Starweaver didn't have the energy to get out of the wacon, uncomfortable as it was. Ted worried about asking any more of him.

“I think we have enough roots,” Ted said, trying to be diplomatic, “but could you get me more grass like this? He needs to stay in this wagon.”

“Sure!”

She bounded off. Txantslusam calmly began unhitching the pa'li. Ted directed him about the rocks he'd used for wheel breaks.

Ted felt sleep drag at him while the ikran began to drift. He stroked the fish-like head over and over while the others worked, reassuring him that he'd be here to care for him when he woke.

How to explain switching bodies to an ikran? Would he freak? Instinctively, Ted knew he would. The emptiness he felt when....

“Nari,” he whispered once the ikran fell asleep. He gently let the tendrils disconnect, trying to not disturb him.

“Yes, Ted?”

“Shh, he's asleep. I need to get some things, to heal his wounds. I want someone to stay with him....”

“Ratche is here! She'll stay!”

Ted sighed in relief. A flicker of a memory returned as the funky warrior returned with the friendly ikran – still in her riding rig, poor thing! Ratche had been the one to comfort him during the hunting accident; Rol'ei the only one brave enough to disengage the thrashing beast.

“Ratche, I need you to watch him until I et back.” He hadn't really talked to her like this before, but his assumptions about their intelligence were up in the air right now.

She spent a while cooing and leaning on him, before finally turning to her charge. He stayed a moment longer, making Nari promise to keep him still. Heaven's knows how, but hell was Ted feeling it.

He crawled into Ratche's nest again – thankfully still clean – and settled in to return to his human body. He had a heck of a lot of work to do.

“Hey!” A sharp poke to his ribs.

“Yes, Nari?” He only opened one eye.

“What you said back there... did you mean it?”

Ted sighed and closed his eye. A difficult subject in the best of times.

“I didn't lie to him, but, I'm hoping with some time to heal, he wil decide to live.”

“I knew I liked you for a reason.”

“Thank you, Nari. Please watch him for me.”

* * *

His human body felt stiff with disuse. He really needed to do some yoga or something.

“Hey Lisa?”

Ted lifted the lid on his linkup.

“Hey jerk. What brings you back so early?”

He released the button on the throat communicator – a precaution Norm had insisted on with his Avatar out of radio range – long enough to check the time and curse. Not even lunch yet.

“Could you come back to the linkup room?” Ted didn't exactly want to project the Ikran Clan issues on a frequency everyone was listening in on.

“What's wrong?” Trust her to ask anyway.

“Just need a little assistance. Hopefully nothing major.”

“Alright. I'm at Hometree now. I'll be over as soon as I'm finished up.”

“Thanks.”

He made the best of his time waiting with picking out the essentials he needed. It felt damn weird packing for his other self. The instantaneous shifts make him nearly forget that that retrieving something as simple as a supplement was a bloody pain; one minute this bottle of B12 in his hands, then hours, or days, away the next.

At first the pile on his cot was a small handful, but it soon looked like a while caseload.

He was just between deciding if he needed his analyzing equipment when Lisa barged in.

“What's up pollywog?”

“Think you're up for a trip? There's a few supplies that I need.”

She sat on the edge of his cot, looking over the items, as if figuring out a puzzle.

“What's going on, Ted? I mean, seriously. We thought you'd be headed back by now, and when you do come home, all you do is curl up on that cot and crash. If we didn't set food by your bed, I doubt you'd even eat.”

He shrugged and lugged a trunk out from under his bunk. A bit big, but it'd work.

“I could use you're help-”

“You mentioned.”

“I need to get an IV line in,” he continued as if she hadn't interrupted. “I need to get a saline solution, and-”

“Wait, an IV line? What the hell?”

With a sigh, he sat beside her and explained the situation as simply as he could. He had no idea how to set up a line for the great creature, he'd need Lisa to do it for him. His thoughts traveled back tot hat last stunned look Rol'ei gave him.

“I think there are some injured as well. Rol'ei had compress pack on his shoulder.”

“Compress pack? What happened?”

Ted shrugged, not meeting her gaze. “I don't know. He didn't have time to say anything, so I have no clue.”

A gentle hand touched his shoulder. “Hey, I'm not the enemy here.”

“I'm sorry Lisa. Its just... four days I've been worried sick over him, then he shows up and all I get for all that worry is a foul look and he stormed off.”

“Well, you'd originally said you were going to head straight back, right? Maybe he was just surprised.”

“How many folks do you know who are 'surprised' and don't say a damn word, huh? You'd think he'd at least say something.”

She gave his shoulder a squeeze.

“Come on, pack up all this stuff and I'll see what I can do for ya. Just stick with Txantslusam and that Nari gal and the ikran until I get there. I'm sure we'll figure it out.”

They carefully packed up his supplies. Lisa insisted he get a good meal, and a bit of a walk, before he headed back to his Avatar. He felt so emotionally exhausted he didn't argue.

“We got it all set up,” came her disembodied voice through the communicator. “Head back when you're ready. Jake said it should only take a couple hours by helicopter.”

“Thank you,” Ted said.

“No problemo, pollywog.”

He smiled as he quickly ate his oatmeal. He should have figured she was worried about him, with all those damn endearments.

* * *

Getting back to his body, and back to Starweaver, made him feel like shit.

His human body might be stiff, but his Avatar form ached like no body's business. Talk about needing to stretch. Cold water, vigorous exercise... he knew better. Luckily, once Lisa got the trunk over, he'd have some painkillers on hand.

Nari and Ratche waited for him. The ikran – his ikran, now – remained asleep in the wagon. Ted gently smoothed his hand over the tough skin on one oddly cocked wing. Poor guy really didn't fit in there. He traced some of the patterns, idly wondering as the more muted markings. Between his dark gray skin, with the smoky swirls and occasional streaks of blue and speckles of red, the big ikran could very well disappear in a murky sky.

“He's beautiful, isn't he?”

Ted grinned at Nari's uncomplicated view of the world. Perhaps he could benefit from a similar hit to the head.

“Yes, he is. Has his marking always been this-” he hated to say washed out. “subtle?”

“Don't know. Maybe ask Txantslusam? He knows everyone.”

“Good idea.”

Ratche butted up against him for a good rub. He considered taking her riding gear off, but didn't want to interfere, if Rol'ei needed to get into the air again.

“They're setting a party up,” Nari said conversationally.

“A party?”

“Mmm hmm. 'Cause us hunters are back.” She eyed him out of the corner of her eye, her chin leaning on the rim of the wagon's wall, looking across Starweaver at him. “We should be celebrating for you too.”

“For me?” Ted chuckled, embarrassed again. “Rescuing the pup was no big. Anyone would have done that.”

“No, not that,” she said. She reached over, offering a crumbled handful of fluff. Her disguarded gifts. He took them back, feeling bad that they looked really trod on. “You're an ikranmakto now. You can be accepted as one of the clan.”

Ted felt his cheeks heat up. His stomach gurgled, nervous, excited, and worried. Had he pressed the matter? Did he force them to accept him, by taking one of their ikran? Would they allow the match, considering Starweaver's... history? And if Starweaver really did....

“There are other things to worry about for me, for now. IF you want to go to the party, though, you can. It is for you, after all.”

She grinned, ran to hug him. Even kissed his cheek.

He shook his head as he watched her go. Ratche butted against him again, nearly knocking the plant bits out of his hands. He rinsed the bits out and set them to dry on the wagon's flat seat. Txantslusam he had no sight of, but figured he was probably getting ready for the celebration as well. He could see the crowd of Ikran Clan around the tents, but none came this close. A bit of raw fish for his belly, a larger chunk for Ratche since she begged, and he was back up in the wagon.

Starweaver roused enough to open one set of eyes. Ted gently reached for his tendral and connected the halo with him. He smiled at the big sigh from the ikran.

They remained sitting like that, Starweaver not quite awake or asleep, and Ted quietly fussing. Resettling the grass to make the temporary pallet more comfortable, scooping out the wet stuff, repositioning a wing, or a tail, for a slightly more comfortable position, visually examining the half-healed wounds. Starweaver grew anxious with his fussing, so, finally he simply sat in the grass against his side. The wagon barely held the ikran, so Ted couldn't get comfortable without leaning on him some way or another.

Starweaver grudgingly scooted, just enough for a spot for his butt, against the curve of the ikran's neck.

You're putting up with me, he thought. But I get the feeling you miss some of this closeness.

His hunters, Starweaver had not thought of all of them as his makto, had rarely simply sat with him. The second rider, the pregnant woman, had cuddled close with him, but the others... That last one had only meant to use him as a way to end her own life. The third too scared of even his own ikran to truly accept him. The first, but a boy and had never known the comfort he could have given with touch.

Deep pain swelled up in his heart. Ted started to get up, worried he'd put an elbow into a bullet hole or something.

No, the remembering. Even the lives he did not think as close had touched him. Touched his soul.

Ratche cooed worriedly, rubbing the side of her muzzle first against Ted's shoulder, than Starweaver's.

“We both need rest,” he said aloud, finding it easier to form concrete thoughts that way. “My friend will be here to help in a couple hours. I'd like to meditate.”

He felt a little silly talking aloud like this to them. You're going to have to get used to it, he told himself.

Ted settled against the curve of Starweaver's neck again. As much as he'd like to delve into the ikran's memories, into his senses, he felt the fatigue pulling at the both of them.

Instead, he simply looked out onto the plain – not wanting to allow thoughts of the endless ocean to give him a sad cast to his thoughts – and focused on little more than the wind drying droplets of saltwater form his skin, the warmth of the sun on his face, his shoulder, even the echo of it against the ikran's hide.

Another big sigh lifted his body a moment, as Starweaver took comfort, and rest, from his blank mind.

* * *

Ratche's inquiring call roused the both of them.

Starweaver focused in the distance. His body grew tense. Ted tried to receive the information he was given, but the strangeness of looking through another creature's eyes was too much. For now, anyway.

He stayed them both with a word, waiting.

Two thin forms solidified through the haze, the afternoon sun causing heat ripples on the clear plain.

Two thin forms with arms filled with odd-sized boxes. Ted grinned, stood on the back of the wagon, and waved.

“Oi! Over here!”

He was surprised to see Jake leading the way, his arms filled with a sack that carried his trunk, among others. Wait, not a sack, but some of that cameo netting gathered up. It worked, Ted supposed.

“You look a bit like Santa Clause,” Ted greeted in English.

Lisa laughed and clapped the marine on the back. “He'd going to have to gain a bit more weight for that. We'd have to make him a beard too.”

“Har. Har. Here, Lisa said you'd need this.” He swung the bag down, settling it on the ground with more care than the botanist would expect of a grunt.

“How'd you get here so quick?”

Jake eyed the sky a moment. “It's been four hours. Not very quick if you ask me.” Ted's eyes went skyward as well, surprised that indeed more time had passed than he'd noticed. Guess he'd fallen asleep.

“We took one of the helicopters. Got a little lost on the way. I thought Jake could give me directions here, considering, but the nagravator got confused.”

“Hey, I've only been here once before. With Neytiri showing me the way. On Toruk, not saying 'left here, right there' from the back of-”

“Thank you for all the effort,” Ted interrupted. He could just bet that Jake's patience was worn thin after four hours with Lisa. “Is the pilot safe?”

“Headed back to base, for now. Figured with night coming on.”

“Of course, of course. I hadn't thought.” Ted waved away his assumptions. Guess they're spending the night.

“Do you need any help?” Ted shook his head to Jake's question. “Then I'm going to go give my formal greetings. Not exactly polite to come in without announcing myself.”

“Go on,” Lisa said, with a shove. “You're sick of me, I know. No need for excuses.”

Jake grinned but didn't apologize further as he made his escape.

“Now,” she declared, rubbing her hands together like an mad scientist. “Why don't you introduce me to your new friend. I'll fix him right up, then we'll see what we can do to patch up you and Rol'ei.”

###################################################################################

Eywa – the Spirit Mother, Goddess

Jake (Jakesully) and Neytiri – main characters from the movie
Lisa – Lisa Furlan, medic and language expert
Rol'ei – Singer for the Ikran Clan
Ted – Edward Cera, Avatar ethnobotanist. A specialist in nutritional values of Pandoran plants.
Txantslusam – Ikran caretaker, scarred from human's ill treatment.
Nari – well-intentioned na'vi, who's had one too many hits to the skullpan
Ikran (Banshee) – Four-winged flying mount, wingspan 13.9 meters (with Sea ikran easily reaching 15 or more)
Ratche – Rol'ei's uncharacteristically friendly ikran
Tanhi Taftxuyu (Starweaver) – Ted's pessimistic mount

Pa'li (Direhorse) – six-legged horse mount, 4 meters tall

Angtsik (Hammerhead Titanothere) – like a hammerhead shark and a rhino had a demon love-child
- 9
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Dreamwalker	By : mancer Category: 1 through F > Avatar Views: 12970 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar and I do not make any profits from this work.

Dreamwalker