She really was a beautiful child, mused Na'dia, as she watched her young daughter tease her half-brother. Tat'yana, named in memory of a far-distant and long-dead childhood friend, was quick and graceful, and looked to become as accomplished a dancer as her mother – a fact of which Na'dia was very proud.

Tat'yana retained few signs that her mother had been a product of the RDA Avatar program, bearing the typical four digits of a born Na'vi on her hands and feet rather than the five of a human/Na'vi hybrid – although her facial features showed a strong resemblance to her mother, a fact of which her father was very grateful. Txep'ean had said on more than one occasion that he would not wish his features on any young female.

Personally, Na'dia thought her mate was extremely handsome, and that a feminine version of his face would be attractive to any male. But that was only her opinion.

In any case, Hukato, his son by their other mate, Ninat, looked like a miniature mirror image of his father.

Na'dia had worried that her extremely unconventional mating with Txep'ean and Ninat might lead to the ostracism of their children by the rest of the clan, but this had not been the case. It seemed that the existence of the tsumuke'awsiteng – the circle of sisters – smoothed over these little irregularities. Of course, Na'dia's reputation as the palulukan girl from beyond the stars, and her unmatched abilities as a warrior, might have a little something to do with their acceptance.

This was emphasised by the twin titanium alloy short-swords hanging from her p'ah s'ivil chey, besides which leant the imposing sight of her pe'efzhe – or BFG, a GAU-90 thirty millimetre auto-cannon, modified for use as a sniper rifle. Na'dia unconsciously rubbed her right shoulder, remembering the bruising recoil of the monstrous firearm. At least once a month, she took the bastard of a weapon out for practice, with Ninat as her spotter – just like she had in the last clash between the Na'vi and the tawtute, all those years ago. Even if cleaning the bitch took her a couple of days after every use.

Of course, she never used it against a live target. That would be in contravention of her beliefs as what the Na'vi called swok'txelan – those that are pure of heart. She still did not eat meat of any kind, nor kill animals for food – although there were times she would love to do away with her extremely irritating and violently insane pa'li stallion. Especially when he deliberately trod on her foot.

She had tried to get the damn beast to rejoin a herd, but it insisted on hanging around, just to make her life difficult. She could not trust it near any other Na'vi – except for, strangely enough, her daughter.

Which reminded her – she should really go make a trip to Hell's Gate to pick up more ammunition. Tomorrow, she decided – she would go tomorrow. Na'dia needed a break from her normal routine of teaching dance and taekkyon to the Omaticaya. It would be good to see Max Patel and the other humans, and to see her sensei – the palulukan.

Three years ago, the near-annual visits of a human starship had ceased unexpectedly. Na'dia was glad that the visits had stopped – despite being a born a human, little in her life led her to trust her birth species. Those last few visits had been uneasy, a fragile truce somehow continuing - eased, perhaps, by the agreement of the Na'vi to trade the remaining stocks of refined unobtanium. Of course, it was considered most impolite to mention the presence of a lethal genetically engineered virus in the atmosphere that would kill an unvaccinated human in days. This defence had been demonstrated by a clandestine attempt of a human military team to land and seize Hell's Gate, despite the warning they were given. The attempt was, of course, unsuccessful - messily so.

Now, any traffic with the Pandoran surface required the humans to wear pressure suits, and to flush the interior of the shuttle to hard vacuum for two days before repressurising. She pitied the poor bastards who had to live in the suits for that length of time.

A few humans – mostly members of the Avatar program - had been allowed to stay, and were given the vaccine, on the promise that they could not return to Earth.

Max and the palulukan were not idiots. They knew if any vaccinated humans left Pandora, their blood would be examined for antibodies against what they were calling Pandoran sleeping sickness.

Even so, Max was almost certain that sampling missions had been run to acquire the virus for study, so the disease had only been, at best, a delaying tactic. The humans were sure to try to establish an outpost on Pandora again, if only because their need for unobtanium was so desperate.

And that would mean war.

"Txep'ean!" she cried out happily, as her life-mate emerged into the clearing. She ran lightly towards him, to be grabbed, swung off her feet and thoroughly kissed.

"You know, my love," said Txep'ean, "You still look as beautiful as the first day I met you."

Tat'yana broke from playing with her half-brother to complain, "Sempu! Do you have to be so mushy all the time with sa'nu?"

"Yes," he stated firmly. "I do." He was right, he thought. Na'dia still looked exactly like a young girl in the first blush of her woman-hood, despite the time that had passed and the child she had borne. Not that he complained, although Ninat grumbled about it occasionally.

Na'dia answered her daughter snippily, "Your father told me on that day I did not belong here." She kissed her mate lightly on the tip of his nose.

Txep'ean said in self-defence, his good humour evident in the tone of his voice, "You agreed with me, as I remember."

"So I did," she replied. "I was never so happy to be proven wrong, even if it did take you a lot longer to come to the same conclusion."

"Hukato," called out Txep'ean. "I have some wisdom to impart to my son."

"What is it, sempu?" asked his son, looking up from his play with his sister's toy ikran.

"A wise man wishing for a peaceful life agrees in all things with his mate," said Txep'ean, mock seriously, making Na'dia chuckle.

The boy frowned, "Surely that is not right. A man, especially a warrior, is always right." The frown got even deeper, and he asked, "What do you do when sa'nu and Na'dia disagree? They are both your mates, and they argue a lot."

Txep'ean roared with laughter. When he stopped, he admitted ruefully, "My life is not a peaceful one, ma'itan."

Na'dia tweaked her mate's tail. "I don't hear you complaining about it, my love."

He smiled down at his petite mate. "I don't," he said. "I love both you and Ninat – my life is richer that I could ever have imagined."

A serious expression appeared on Na'dia's face, worrying him instantly.

"Txep'ean," she said quietly, so as not to disturb the children, "I have need to go to Hell's Gate. Tomorrow."

"Why so soon?" he asked reasonably.

She swallowed deeply before speaking, worrying her mate even more. Na'dia only did that when she knew something was wrong.

Na'dia had been trying to hold off a feeling of disquiet, trying to ignore it. It had grown too strong for her to ignore any longer. "I feel...an uncertainty in the flow of life energy through Eywa," she finally admitted. "I have felt this for some days. It may be nothing, but..." her voice trailed off.

The changes the palulukan had made to his mate through melding via tsahaylu had left her extraordinarily sensitive to Eywa's will. He had experienced her knowledge of Eywa when he made the bond with her, so had no doubt about her abilities – unlike Na'dia, whose skepticism was still informed by the imprint of her human upbringing, despite her experience.

Her mate said regretfully, "I am afraid I cannot go with you, my love. The training of the taronyu candidates cannot be interrupted at this point, not just before they go to Iknimaya."

"I know. There is something else," she said. "I need Ninat to accompany me."

He nodded, a disturbed expression on his face. "Will you take the children?"

Shaking her head, Na'dia replied, "No. Peyral will take care of them while you are busy." She grinned impishly, "And no, it isn't so I can get Ninat to myself for a few days."

A half-smile appeared on his face, before he asked, "Have you discussed this with Mo'at or Ney'tiri?"

"Not yet," she said. "I wanted to talk to you first. You are my mate."

Suddenly, he grinned back at her. "I bet you haven't asked Ninat yet," he insinuated. "Don't you think that you should have asked her first, before you asked me?" From the expression of horror on his mate's face, Txep'ean could see there was going to be a stand up knock'em down argument tonight, and he had no intention of being in the middle of it. It would be like trying to hold back a stampede of 'angitsa. He did, after all, have some skerrick of a sense of self-preservation. He resolved to steal some of Na'dia's ear plugs while she wasn't looking.

Later that night, Txep'ean was glad he did.