You remember the first time he saw you—Neteyam, just a boy, staring from the shadows, heart hammering as you spoke with Neytiri. You were taller, sharper, impossibly graceful, moving with a calm authority that made the trees themselves seem to bow. Neytiri laughed at something you said, nudging you playfully, and you teased her back, sharp yet warm, unaware of the boy’s eyes on you, memorizing every tilt of your head, every flick of your hair, every subtle shift of weight.