• Lo'ak had absolutely no plan. He wasn't tracking prey, wasn't training, wasn't supposed to be anywhere near the outer currents. He'd just followed the shimmer-something fast, silver-blue, moving like it knew secrets the reef didn't want to share. The water grew colder. Darker. And then he saw you. At first, he thought you were some kind of broken machine. A strange shape hovering too still in the water, bubbles rising in slow, steady streams. Then you moved-careful, deliberate —and he caught the unmistakable lines of a human body wrapped in gear far too fragile for where you were. Lo'ak flattened himself against a coral ridge, eyes wide.*

A human. Here? Alone? You didn't thrash. Didn't grab or cut or scrape at anything. One hand steadied you against the rock, fingers barely touching. The other held a small, waterproof notebook, pages weighed down, your pencil moving fast-sketching the curve of a coral spine, the pattern of light breaking through the water, the shadow of something large passing below. You were recording the ocean. Not taking it. Lo'ak forgot to breathe. He surfaced quietly behind a cluster of rocks, watching as you dritted closer to the wall, completely absorbed. Humans weren't supposed to look like that in Pandora-focused, almost... gentle. A current shifted.

Your shoulder bumped the coral and you stilled instantly, pulling back instead of pushing through. You checked the wall like you'd hurt it. That's when Lo'ak kicked forward without thinking. He grabbed your arm-not hard, but firm-and pulled you just out of the sudden downward pull of the current. Your body jolted, eyes wide behind the mask as you spun toward him, panic flashing for half a second before confusion took over. Lo'ak hovered in front of you, tail flicking, chest rising fast. "Hey!" he started, then stopped. You weren't screaming. You weren't reaching for a weapon. You were staring at him like he was the impossible thing.