Heritage

Slowly, silently creeping amongst the dense foliage slithered three familiar metalloid figures. Their normally heavy and lumbering steps created so sound on the leaf ridden jungle floor, attracting no attention to their glinting yet dirty gears and pistons. Each one held tightly in it’s grasp, a large automatic weapon. Black and sleek they were, their rounds slung over the barrels sides. The sharp incisor like bullets waiting patiently until the chance to kill arose. A crackling, radio-like voice barked out of the first machine ordering the following two to quicken their paces. The three machines had been sent to Pandora in the hopes of securing what was once lost seventeen years prior, the vast mines of Unobtianium. Their boss, the self indulging Parker Selfridge seemingly had an unresolved vendetta with the green planet and plotted for all of these long years to return. No one knew exactly what fueled his intentions, hate? Anger with the Na’vi people? But since his exile, Parker told not a soul as to why he desired to return.

Waving the signal to move ahead, the leading machine ushered the others further into the alien jungle, with the moon’s light as their guide.



~ Grace rested her head comfortably upon Toruk’s broad shoulder and smiled contently to herself. The half-blood’s scent wafted into her, filling her with such serenity and happiness all she could do was smile. Again, she thought about Toruk’s mother. While she and he had grown up together, Grace had never actually met the human woman. She knew that sometimes, his mother taught the Na’vi children about the arts and medicine and history. The children especially enjoyed it when Toruk’s mother taught them how to dance ballet, how to belly dance, and ballroom. His mother even tutored her mother Neytiri to writhe her hips in the seductive Middle Eastern dance.

“Toruk, tell me about your mother,” Grace’s gentile voice asked. Her golden eyes never left the sight of Pandora’s majestic moon floating in a sea of the darkest indigo.

“She was kind, smart, always made me feel loved,” he whispered, “she never once told me that being a half-blood, well the only half-blood, was wrong.”

Grace giggled, “You should stop looking at yourself as an oddity and start to see yourself as a fine Omaticaya male and warrior.” She nuzzled Toruk’s caramel and cobalt skin.

The half-blood shivered and flicked his tail, “that tickles,” he said.

A smirk found its way to Grace’s lips as her devilish eyes glowed, “ticklish?”

Toruk’s hazel pools stared at his soon to be mate, “Me? Nonsense. A Na’vi male is not ticklish. You are so childish Grace,” he said puffing out his chest. The Na’vi woman snickered and lightly traced a long slender finger along the length of Toruk’s lean fore-arm. The half-blood stifled an outburst of hysterics, not wanting to grant Grace the satisfaction of triumph. Biting his lower lip, fangs digging into the flesh, Toruk shook his head in resistance.

“You will not win Toruk, you might as well give in,” Grace purred. Her long tail swiveled around in anticipation.

“That’s a battle you’ll loose Grace.”



~ The three machines swatted ferns and tall grasses away from their wide wind-shields as they approached a clearing in the distance. The overgrown path they had trudged on for countless hours finally opened up to what looked like an enormous suspending root. The thick earthly vein stretched from the clearing’s opening to the distant floating mountains of Iknimaya. Raising the large robotic arm, the lead machine halted the other two.

“Hold-well look at that,” the arm extended towards the two unsuspecting Na’vi. The arm reflected the moons glow like a hellish arrow at the young Na’vi. Neither one seemed to take notice of the three mechanic forms watching them beyond the way. Turning to it’s comrades, the first machine raised it’s gun and took aim, “Finally some action.”



~ Grace stood in unmistakable pride, hands on her slim hips. Toruk, red faced was gradually catching his breath after failing miserably to not laugh. The half-blood belted out fits of laughter, curling his tail and flattening his pointed ears. Grace too had giggled, but tried to maintain a sense of composure.

“Admit defeat!” She commanded. Toruk just looked at her and grunted.

As he too rose to leave and go back to the ceremony, a tiny glint caught his hazel eyes. It came from behind Grace. Raising an eyebrow, another trait of his mother, Toruk stepped forward, gently taking Grace by the shoulders and moving to stand in front. The tall half-blood’s tail went ridged, his nostrils flared. This scent was not of Pandora. Pandora smelled of the flowers and plants, of the creatures and sea. This was harsh and crude. Like burning flesh, the odor lingered in the back of Toruk’s throat.

“Toruk, what’s wrong?” Grace asked tentatively.

“Something is out there…something not alive.”

He saw the glint again, this time there were more. Three to be exact. Suddenly overcome with apprehension, Toruk walked backwards, pushing Grace along with him.

“Toruk! What are you doing!?” She hissed.

Toruk’s sensitive ears picked up the clicking of a sight. Guns!

“Grace, run!” Toruk turned and shoved the princess. Grace, sensing the fear within her mate, didn’t hesitate to dart in the other direction towards Iknimaya.

Toruk spun around, snarling angrily at the unseen danger. He had no weapon, thus making him even more vulnerable. The half-blood braced and crouched low, his feline attributes showing through.



~ “Look at this, this beast thinks he can take us,” The lead machine joked to it’s comrades.

“Let’s see if he has the balls-shoot him.”



~ what sounded like the clapping of thunder erupted from the black barrel and unleashed a torrent of shining bullets straight for the young Na’vi. Toruk quickly ducked and diverted the onslaught, his speed and agility saving him. With a formidable hiss, Toruk charged. His inner sense screamed, “What are you doing!? You will be killed!” But his inherent responsibility to keep his mate safe overpowered any human emotion. The pounding of his heart rang in his ears as his legs propelled him forward. Toruk pumped his arms back and forth, the firm muscles in his stomach twisting with every stride. The strong muscles of his claves and thighs absorbing the impact of meeting the ground, creating an image of an Olympic runner. Toruk seemed to float on the air itself as he speed towards the assailant. As he drew closer, he saw another glint and prepared to dodge.

“Toruk! Stop!!” Grace hollered from the safety of Iknimaya.

The half-blood tore his concentration away from his target to consider Grace’s plea. An unwise tactic, and a deadly choice. The scorching metal of the golden bullet ejected from the slick barrel, a plume of smoke concealing it’s dagger-like body. The bullet tore through the air, singing as the wind blew across its smooth shell. Toruk’s eyes widened is surprise and dread as his legs faulted under him. Long arms flailed to slow his momentum, but not enough. The bullet connected with it’s target, ripping a hole within Toruk’s side. The force caused the half-blood to concave around the weapon, then be thrown backwards onto the mossy root. Blood shot out of the wound, coating his hips and chest. Toruk’s head struck the ground hard, his pupils dilated. Toruk’s hazel gaze saw nothing but blue sky and pale stars. His head throbbed and swam. His hearing became muffled but he thought he caught Grace’s voice calling out to him.



~” Yes! Take that bitch! All right boys, grab him and let’s haul him back to base.”~



Grace hid as her mate was lifelessly dragged away into the darkness of the jungle. Tears spilled from her eyes as she realized there was nothing for her to do. If she tried to help they would kill her, but she could not just do nothing. Once they were out of sight, she emerged and ran over to where Toruk’s blood still warmed the root.

“T..Toruk,” Grace whispered, falling to her knees and placing her hand on the pool of blood. The shocking red clung to her palm like syrup.

“Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!! Toruk!!!!!!!!!!!!” Grace threw her head towards the sky and relinquished a heart wrenching scream. “Nooooooo!!!!!!! Toruk!!!!!!”


~ Toruk fought his eyes open with the rest of his strength, prying them loose of sweat and dried blood. His side seared with pain, yet he was unable to move. The blinding white light overhead burned, as he peeked through tiny slits.
“Well holy shit, I can’t believe it,” came a nasally masculine voice. Toruk’s ears pointed at the sound, “This guy’s gotta be the weirdest thing on this planet.”
Parker Selfridge leaned over the prone Na’vi tied to a cold medical table, Toruk’s nine foot frame open to anything. The human wondered at the strange being, sure he remembered the natives but they were blue-skinned. This one had tanned skin and sapphire blue stripes. Was this a new form of an Avatar? It had five fingers and toes, eyebrows, and a shorter tail. But the color of it’s skin stood out the most.
“Who are you?” Parker asked, knuckles white on the edge of the table.
Toruk’s eyes lolled around in their sockets for a bit, computing the question just asked.
“Who are you?” He asked again a little agitated this time. The curiously skinned Na’vi moved it’s lips to answer.
“T…uk” it weakly said. Toruk’s mouth felt like sandpaper.
Parker eyed the creature weirdly, “come again?”
“Toruk…my name is Toruk.”