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Perhaps the forest clothed in the pure shine of bioluminescence has always felt this damp and cold, but deep in the midst of her golden slumber, how could she remember all?
Usually, the vivid image of dewy and moisture-laden floras would seemingly enclose her form in a welcoming embrace, but the sight presented in front of her was everything but typically pleasant. It was like time in Pandora suddenly came to an eerie halt in the dead of the night.
That familiar frame though, she could remember, undoubtedly and unfailingly. If there comes a time when the nostalgic walk down her memory lane would be stripped away by Eywa, she would still remember the image of that familiar figure.
A regular Na'vi would usually spend their day thinking about the usual absurdity of their way of life, whereas the little corners of the girl's mind are simply intoxicated by warm and hazy recollections of previous dreams of the mystery figure.
The absurdly loud splashes of pebbles into the nearby pond seemed to be the only noise engulfing her attention, along with the occasional moody grunts of the boy. She was in his sanctuary. This was his safe place.
She remembered the demolished, armored vehicles of the Sky People not far from being completely swallowed by the wild, unforgiving nature of the forest and the scattered arrows, the type he and his brother seemed to practice with, slender tips thrusted into the bark of exotic, ancestral trees. It was the place he grew up in, the fauna were like his kin, and the flora like his comrade.
So why? Why is the atmosphere so suffocating? His usual free-spirited nature seemingly being suppressed by an unspoken rage within.
The girl's thoughts in the realm of her dreams were cut short as she heard another recognizable voice in the distance.
"Lo'ak, it's time. We must leave."
He raised his arm, hesitation and reluctance evident in his gesture, and motioned for a final hurl of his last pebble, but came to an ultimate cease. Holding onto the wretchedly insignificant pebble like a beacon of hope, rough and dull in the beam of the light, the boy simply clutched onto it tighter. It seemed the firmer his grip, the harder his gaze.
She will never forget the moment he broke that stillness, and walked away in a manner so weary, so tired. The indigo, the violet, the blue, and the green which illuminated the brightest in a flurry of colors amongst Omaticayan forests seemed to slowly fade away monotonously, absent of its vibrance and spirit.
The boy glanced back once more, looking around miserably desperate, trying to absorb the place he once called home now becoming an imprint in the back of his head.
