The forest was alive with the hum of the world around me. The dense foliage seemed to pulse with the beat of the planet’s heart, the rustling of the leaves and the distant calls of creatures filling the air. The jungle of Pandora was always alive, vibrant and teeming with life. But today, it felt distant. Like the pulse of the forest had slowed, and I was caught in the spaces between its beats.

My feet tread softly through the undergrowth, careful to avoid the sharp leaves and branches that littered the path. I had walked this route countless times, every curve of the trail etched into my memory. Yet today, everything felt foreign. Even the air tasted different—thick with moisture, tinged with something unsettling. It wasn’t the mist of the morning rain that lingered in the canopy, nor was it the scent of wet earth. It was me. I was the one who had changed.

I stopped for a moment, letting the cool breeze brush against my face, but I didn’t really feel it. The wind whispered through the branches above, the rhythm of the jungle a symphony I could almost hear in my bones, yet I remained silent, still. The way the trees stretched upward, the emerald leaves quivering like wings of some great bird, seemed to mock me. Why aren’t you soaring?

There was a gnawing feeling deep in my chest, a hollow ache that I couldn’t name, but it followed me everywhere. It was the weight of expectation, a mantle that had always felt too heavy, but now it pressed against me like a stone wall. My father, Tsu’tey, had always been a warrior, a figure of strength. He was the one who fought with fire and fury, who led with the pride of a hundred generations behind him. And I...I was supposed to follow.

I had never been able to do that.

I could feel the sting of that thought in my stomach, a growing knot of frustration. The familiar scent of the jungle, once comforting, now only reminded me of my failures. I had tried so hard to be like him—to be like the warriors of the clan, with their steady hands and unflinching hearts. But the more I tried, the more I felt like I was slipping. My aim was off, my confidence faltering, my body too slow to react as I needed it to. I wasn’t like him. I wasn’t like them. And every time I fell short, it felt like a quiet betrayal, a chasm opening up between me and the expectations of those I loved.