There was a savage grace to the darkened sky. Thick, black clouds blocked starlight from view and only allowed a weary sheen of moonlight to filter through their mass. The air held a crisp chill; snowflakes danced wildly on the wind, matting her long hair to her face in frozen chunks. The little crystals settled in her raven locks and in her lashes, sparkling weakly in the darkness. It was bitterly, bitterly cold. The snowfall only grew heavier as she trudged on, her thick seal furs offering little shelter, but Kisa could not be deterred. Behind the foreboding clouds shone a full moon. This was her only chance.
She walked at a crouch, partially to maintain her balance against the wind, and her eyes, already accustomed to the dark, swept the landscape in search of prey. She exhaled, and the warmth escaped her lungs in a silent fog. Maintaining focus was crucial. Though she was exhausted, she knew that she had no choice but to continue; should she give up, there would be no facing herself in the morning.
Kisa walked on.
Just as she felt sure that she would weep with desperation, she saw a flicker of movement against the snowy backdrop; after hours of hunting, her salvation was at hand. She took a deep breath, steadying herself, and carefully moved towards the artic fox. She supposed that it was pure luck that allowed her to find the creature despite the darkness, and in what was the purest irony, she thanked the spirits. Her snow-shoes allowed her to move silently over the top of the icy landscape, and soon, she was a suitable distance away.
Here I go. She gulped in air frantically, the familiar sense of panic greeting her like an old friend. Her heart pounded in her ears and simultaneously leapt to her throat, and her eyes filled with tears as she choked. No, no, no. Not again. But in spite of the burning lump of guilt that sat in the bottom of her stomach, she shakily raised her hands, and began to bend.
The fox's shrieks of pain split the silence.
Adrenaline rushed through her as her fingers bent at nauseating angles, pulling and pushing the liquid life that ran through the creature's veins, and tears streamed down her face in spite of the ecstasy. Kisa, daughter of Karrin and Noa, was a monster. How proud they had been when they had learned that their daughter was a waterbender – they had send her to the Northern Water Tribe where she had been taught by the very best, where she had grown from a child into a strong, capable young woman, and where she had discovered an aptitude for forcing her will upon those that were weaker than she.
Aged seventeen, she had mastered the ancient art of waterbending and had stumbled upon the monstrosity that was bloodbending. And if she thought that bending water made her feel powerful… Oh, there was nothing like bloodbending. But it never became any easier. She had spent countless nights beneath the full moon, exerting force upon whatever she could find in the barren landscape, and still, she cried.
The fox continued yelp as she forced it upright, leaving its hind paws dangling inches from the ground, and she prepared herself for the end. Perhaps, if she were strong enough, this could be the last time. Steeling herself, determined to make it as brutal as possible in order to punish herself for doing something so horrific, Kisa bent her fingers sideways, hoping to exert enough pressure to snap the little fox's spine.
There was a scream – and then eerie silence.
Kisa collapsed and broke into shuddering sobs. The thrill of power faded, leaving her broken and empty, just as she would be for the duration of the next lunar cycle, and guilt washed over her in waves. How long she kneeled in the snow, she did not know, but when she finally calmed, and when her tears finally faded, she stood, and walked over towards the lifeless carcass of her prey. Forever silenced, the little fox lay limp. She pressed her hand gently to its chest, stroking its soft fur, sniffling quietly. She bent, this time using water, and carved out a small grave from the ice. She cradled the little body against her for a moment, saying a final goodbye, and noticed that… It was alive.
Horrified, Kisa immediately dropped the creature, where it rolled limply. It was paralyzed, but she had not snapped up high enough to stop its breathing. But it stopped screaming! She thought frantically, her mind scrambling to discern what had taken place. But that didn't matter; she had to help it.
In one fluid motion, she turned snow to water, and began to heal the creature of the injuries that she had inflicted. Her bending glowed a pale shade of blue as it encased the creature's upper back and knit flesh and bone back together. She breathed shallowly, the gravity of what she had done finally beginning to sink in, and merely hoped that the damage could be reversed. As the water plopped back into the snow, her work complete, she merely stroked the little fox, waiting for some sort of reaction. It was still breathing, but it had not moved, and she feared that the bloodbending was irreversible.
For a moment, she reached beyond her conscience, and let herself sense the blood that was flowing through the creature's body – a sensation that was only available beneath the full moon – and felt that all was well internally. Finally, the little fox blinked, and Kisa drew back as if she had been scalded. She fully expected the animal to run off into the night.
Instead, the fox merely looked at her expectantly. It did not bare its teeth, nor did it snarl nor snap. Gingerly, Kisa reached out to stroke it again, and the creature did not flinch away. After sitting a few moments, merely petting it, Kisa slid her hands beneath the creature, and carefully, carefully picked it up, not fully sure of what she intended to do with it. Almost obediently, the fox went with her hands, without squirming or wriggling to get away. Confused, Kisa merely held it to her chest for a few moments, and then gently placed it back in the snow. She stood, brushing the dust-like snow from her clothing, and then staggered off into the night. Her village was not far from here, and she could be home within the half hour.
Behind her, the sound of her paws striking ice hidden in the howling wind, followed the fox.