One day an incident began as nothing more than a game. The day was warm, the kind that made the forest hum lazily, light filtering down in slow, drifting patterns. Training had ended early that day, and the children scattered in small groups, freed once more to their own devices. Ralu had discovered a new path in the forest. It is narrow, twisting, leading down toward a lower stretch of forest rarely visited by the younger members of the clan. It wasn't forbidden exactly. Just discouraged. That, of course, made it irresistible for the minds of children and their usual fun.
Jake hesitated only a moment before following Ralu. Eyna came too, her expression thoughtful rather than excited saying that in a slowpaced yet mysterious voice "The roots there are older". "Then, move when you don't expect the elders where we went by", Ralu waved off the warning with a grin, already halfway down the vine path. Jake glanced at Eyna, then nodded. He trusted her instincts, but he trusted their bond more. He would not let either of them face the unknown alone.
The path descended sharply, the air growing cooler and thicker with moisture. Bioluminescent plants glowed faintly even in daylight, casting strange shadows that shifted as the children moved. Jake felt alert, senses sharpened. Something about this place pressed in on him. He slowed, testing each step, recalling the lessons of stillness and balance. Ralu bounded ahead, laughter echoing, until it didn't.
The sound that replaced it was a sharp crack followed by a strangled cry which froze Jake in place.
"Ralu!" Eyna shouted.
Jake moved before thought could catch him. The ground beneath Ralu had given way to a living root structure weakened by time and recent rain. He had fallen several lengths down, caught awkwardly in a tangle of vines above a jagged outcropping of stone. One leg bent at a wrong angle. His hands clawed desperately at slick bark, eyes wide with shock and pain. Jake felt a surge of panic, old instincts roaring to life. In his other life, he would have acted without hesitation by calculating the angles, applying force, accepting damage as necessary. But here, he stopped.
"Hold on," Jake called, voice shaking despite his effort. He edged closer, testing the ground with his foot, remembering Karyu's words: Strength is loud. The vines between them swayed, reacting to movement. One wrong step could send them both down.
Eyna crouched beside him, her breathing quick but controlled. "The vines will bear weight if you move slowly," she said. "But not suddenly."
Jake nodded, swallowing hard. He reached out, inch by inch, transferring weight carefully. He felt the forest respond. His foot slipped anyway. Pain exploded through his side as he slammed into the rock face, the impact knocking the air from his lungs. His grip failed. He fell.
The world blurred into sensation—scraping bark, tearing skin, the sickening jolt as his body struck a lower ledge. Something in his arm twisted violently, white-hot agony shooting up to his shoulder. He cried out despite himself, the sound raw and uncontrolled. When he finally came to a stop, his vision swam, and he tasted blood. For a moment, there was nothing but pain.
Then Ralu's voice, cracking with fear. "Jake! Jake, don't move!"
Jake forced his eyes open. The world tilted. His arm lay at an unnatural angle, nerves screaming. His ribs burned with every shallow breath. He wanted to move, to fix, to do something. The old instinct surged—override pain, push through, act. He clenched his jaw, fighting it. Movement now could make things worse. He knew that too well.
"I'm here," he managed, though his voice shook. He focused on breathing, slow and deliberate, each inhale a small victory over panic. Through the haze, he felt something else, a familiar resonance which is faint. Eywa, witnessed his choice to endure rather than fall then and there.
Help arrived quickly after that—too quickly for Jake to track time properly. Adult voices, strong arms lifting him carefully.
Sa'nari's cry when she saw him pierced through the fog, sharper than any physical pain. Jake drifted in and out of awareness, carried back toward Hometree, the forest lights blurring into streaks of blue and green.
Recovery was slow.
Jake's arm healed poorly at first, the bone set and reset, pain lingering like a lesson etched into flesh. He was confined while others trained and played. Ralu visited daily, guilt heavy in his eyes, bringing stories and awkward jokes that sometimes ended in shared silence. Eyna came too, sitting beside Jake, humming softly. The plants around them glowed brighter when she did.
In the quiet, Jake reflected. He had been hurt because he had chosen to help his friend and yet he did not regret it. He had acted not to prove strength, but to protect. The pain was real. So was the bond it reinforced. When he finally stood again, arm still weak but healing, something in him had shifted.
Strength, he realized, was not measured by how much pain you could ignore. It was measured by what you were willing to endure for others.