Okay, This Is Just A Little Two-Or-Three Shot, Cuz I Couldn't Get It Out Of My Head And I've Got About Another Story I Haven't Updated For A While And People Are Mad At Me For It... So Yeah. Reviews=Love=Faster Updates!
Katara darted swiftly and silently through the growing darkness, her thin, gauzy veil floating behind her like a ghostly aura. The fresh red paint on her skin was cold in the breeze, still damp. She felt bad about pretending to be the Spirit that she clearly wasn't, but she had things to do tonight. In a way, it was kind of exciting; she could be whatever she wanted to be, didn't have to conform to the person that she'd convinced everyone-even herself-that she was. She could be free.
Within minutes, she saw it; a small camp of Fire Nation soldiers, lying in wait. They'd been attacking innocent travelers lately, but she was here to put a stop to that.
But even before she had reached the outskirts of the camp she knew something was wrong. There was a certain commotion to the camp that shouldn't be occuring this late at night. People were screaming.
And then she saw it.
If she'd blinked, she would have missed it. But she'd seen it. The leering face that decorated half of the Wanted posters in the Fire Nation. The Blue Spirit. It had jumped clean over a tent, swords drawn.
Well, she thought, Looks like I've got an ally.
Without needing further prompting, she dashed toward the camp, gracefully pulling water from the air and drawing it into a whip. Joining the fray, she attacked a small group of soldiers, her movements so fluid she could have been dancing. She attacked not to kill, but to frighten and wound. The Blue Spirit seemed to have the same reservations. His-for up close Katara could see that he was no more than a man in a mask- swords were lined with thin streaks of blood, but were not coated as they might have been if used to kill.
For a moment, there was a temporary lapse in fighting as they dispatched the soldiers in front of them. As others struggled to regroup and form an offensive, The Blue Spirit and the pretend Painted Lady exchanged a glance. The Spirit gave a nod, acknowledging her as if with respect, and she gave one in return. That was all.
And then they were at it again.
Within minutes, the ground was littered with wounded soldiers, some moaning, some even screaming. But all were downed.
Breathing hard, Katara let her water whip dissolve into the bloody soil. She turned, and watched as the Blue Spirit sheathed his swords across his back. He too was breathing rather heavily.
Feeling almost giddy, Kartara tilted her head back and let out a few breathless laughs. They were almost soundless, but they were enough to catch the Spirit's attention. He turned to look at her, then took a couple of steps toward her. He held out his hand.
For a single second, Katara was confused. Then she understood, and reached out to shake his hand. Half-smiling, she met his gaze and nodded once. Neither of them spoke.
Even as alert as she was right now, Katara didn't register the flash of movement until it was too late. One of the wounded soldiers had reached up and plunged a dagger into the stomach of the Blue Spirit.
The Spirit flinched, pulling away from her and holding his hands to his bleeding front. Katara reacted quickly, drawing water out of the air and using it to slit the throat of the offending soldier. With luck, he would be the only one to die tonight.
Meanwhile, the Blue Spirit's knees were beginning to buckle. Katara rushed over and looped one of his arms around her shoulders, not needing to be asked. The Spirit looked at her so quickly she could only assume he was surprised, but she shook her head. Now was not the time to argue.
She helped him to stagger out of the camp, and once they were a safe distance away, laid him down in a small clearing in the trees. The Spirit grunted with pain, the only sound either of them had made to the other that night. Then he groaned as Katara forced him to lie down on his back. His breathing was labored.
She put her fingers to her lips, telling him to shh without making a sound. He didn't see. He'd passed out.
Alarmed, Katara pulled his hands away from the wound, and cursed mentally as she saw how much blood the man had lost. As gently as she could, she unbuttoned his shirt and drew it away from his chest and abdomen, exposing the injury. Lifting a hand, she drew water out of the air and used it to clean the skin around the wound of blood. Once more, and she set to work on healing his wound. The white glow of the healing water reassured her, but even she could only do so much. In the end, she took off the man's shirt and tore it into bandages, then bound and dressed the injury. She had taken care of the worst of the internal damage, but did not have the strength to heal the wound completely tonight.
Still, there were things that had to be done. She knew she couldn't go back to the gAang tonight, not if it meant leaving this poor wounded ally alone. She would have to do the best she could. She made camp with what she could; fire "borrowed" from the camp they had left to burn, clearing leaves to make space to sleep, a few medicinal herbs and a gourd of leaves and bark. It would have to do until morning.
But...
She had to admit, she was curious. Just whose was the face under that painted mask? The man was young, she could tell from the youthful skin and muscles, but... who was he? And besides, it couldn't have been comfortable to sleep in that mask...
But he trusts me. He trusted me to get him to safety, to help him. If he wanted me to know who he is, he would have told me. But he didn't. So I'll respect that.
For tonight.
