When a seemingly lifeless boy is saved by a girl.
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Ma'vona was once a beloved member of the Kame'tire clan, known for their profound understanding of Pandora's flora and unparalleled healing skills. Their expertise was so great that they could heal...
♪ Into Hiding by Pinar Toprak ♪ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ Chapter Forty-Four: The Assurance
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I walked down the corridor, my heart pounding against my ribs with every step. My grip tightened on the girl's handcuffed wrists behind her back as I kept her moving. She was young—too young but seemed closer to my age. Her smaller frame hovered just a step ahead of me, her gaze downcast. I tried to match the indifferent stride of the Avatar soldiers, my movements calculated and robotic to avoid suspicion.
We reached a quieter part of the facility, the corridor devoid of guards. My eyes darted to the surveillance camera above, its lens rotating in its usual rhythmic motion. The timing was everything. As soon as it turned away, I steered us into a blind spot—a small recess along the wall.
Taking a deep breath, I swiftly opened the metal door beside me and ushered her in. The space was cramped, suffused with the faint hum of nearby machinery. The door closed with a soft click, and I slid the locking mechanism into place.
The girl stumbled slightly as she crossed the threshold, her breaths coming quick and shallow. I rested my back against the door for a moment, letting the tension ebb from my shoulders.
This place—it brought back too much. My gaze swept over the dim room, the faint outline of the storage containers stacked in the corner. Memories of the last time I had hidden here surfaced unbidden: Txä'vo's limped and injured body, Neteyam's sharp focus with the rifle in his hands, and the way we had barely escaped.
I shoved the memory aside. Now wasn't the time to dwell.
I turned to face her, taking off my helmet, I let the cool air touch my face. The traditional braids fell loose over my shoulders, the faint scent of Pandoran oils lingering in the air. The girl's wide eyes locked onto me, a flicker of awe visible behind her tired expression, but it was faint, dulled by exhaustion and fear.
My gaze fell over the dark purple-colored bruises all over her legs and a few random scars that marked her body.
"Are you okay?" I asked in Na'vi, crouching slightly to meet her gaze. "You're not hurt, are you?"
She blinked, her lips parting slightly, hesitation etched across her face. I saw her weighing her options, wondering if I could be trusted.
Finally, she spoke, her voice quiet and a little unsure. "My... My Na'vi is... weak," she said, the words awkward, but sincere. Her gaze dropped to the floor, embarrassed.
The faint tremor in her voice hit me harder than I expected. My chest tightened as I nodded slightly, my expression softening. I tried to push aside the anger rising within me. The reason behind her weak Na'vi was clear—the RDA had stripped these children of their culture, their language.
