Making Friends
Katara swallowed, feeling something cold and heavy settle in her stomach. Squashed Face's smile widened as he tightened his grip on her shoulder, showing a row of stained, broken teeth. She had almost forgot how ugly the outlaw was with his pockmarked skin and flattened features—forgot how much he made her skin crawl. But she had not forgot how much she hated him.
"Now then," he began in his oily voice, "we can do this the hard way or the—"
Her hand twitched, summoning the spilt water to her fingers, and she lashed out with a whip that shoved him back just as powerfully as if she had given him an uppercut to his jaw. The water swept back to circle around her palm as she got to her feet, and then she was running, running, running—
Straight into the arms of a man with a two-lined scar running across his nose and cheeks, as if he had been clawed by some large beast … or an ostrich-horse. Meaty hands encircled her wrists, making her cry out in pain as he spun her around and twisted her arms up behind her back, pulling her tight against his chest. Once again, her bending water splashed harmlessly to the ground.
"No! Let me go!" Katara yelled, kicking and struggling as she tried to break free of his hold, but every movement just made her arms ache a bit more. The iron grip on her wrists would not be released.
Suddenly, the torches on the walls flared to life around her, and the heavy stone in her stomach seemed to sink even further as she saw that she was surrounded. Her eyes skittered from one face to the next. She noticed that some of the men were sporting bandages from where she and the Blue Spirit had injured them earlier, but there were also some outlaws she didn't recognise; men who were fresh and strong, and had not been walking for hours with barely any food and water like her. Men who would crush her if she couldn't find a way to defend against their attacks.
Blood pounded in her ears, dulling every sound in the cave to a low hum. She knew she was in trouble, but there was still a thrill of hope thrumming in her veins. One look at the walls had showed her why she had sensed her element all around her; there were barrels stacked up against all four. Barrels of water. All she needed to do was get her arms free and she would have the outlaws begging for mercy. Unfortunately, that was easier said than done. In fact, the more she struggled, the more she felt like her arms were going to pop right out of their sockets.
Squashed Face got back to his feet and then advanced towards her, tilting his neck this way and that with a series of cracks. "Quite the little spitfire, aren't you?" he observed, but the tone of his voice suggested it wasn't a compliment.
"Drop dead!" Katara growled, pausing in her thrashing to glare at him.
His mouth curved into a smile and he grasped her jaw in a bruising grip, tilting her face up more to his. "Now, now, sweetheart. That's not a nice way to talk. Looks like we're going to have to teach you some manners."
She spat at his face in response, chest heaving in anger even as her heart pounded sickeningly against her ribs. Damn it! Why couldn't she get her arms free?
Squashed Face froze and wiped the spittle from his cheek, then his eyes narrowed to thin slits. "You're going to pay for that," he promised in a deadly voice, and her eyes widened as he pulled his broadsword free from its scabbard. "But first we need to deal with your little masked friend."
As if on cue, there was a loud squawk from the back tunnel and someone cried out in pain. Katara hoped it wasn't the Blue Spirit. Whatever was going on back there didn't sound good. She could hear men shouting and grunting, intermingled with the ringing clash of steel hitting against steel. A strangled yell, and then the sound of thudding feet, like an avalanche of noise rushing towards her. Squashed Face made a gesture to his men, who took up a defensive position around the entrance like a blockade, boxing Katara, the scarred man holding her, and Squashed Face in as well. That was when something emerged from the shadowed tunnel: a masked figure astride an ostrich-horse, clutching the reins in one hand while the other clasped a single dao sword.
"Blue!" she cried in relief.
He was alive, though it only took him a second to realise the direness of their situation. One look at her position and then he was tugging on Scratch's reins, drawing the ostrich-horse to a halt. More outlaws came to surround him from behind—leftovers from the men he had fought in the tunnel while freeing Scratch—but the Blue Spirit seemed to have expected this and simply adjusted his grip on his sword, keeping his attention focussed on the trio in the centre. Even without being able to see his expression, Katara knew that he was assessing the outlaws—and his options.
Squashed Face stepped forward. "As you can see, we have you completely surrounded. You can try to fight us, of course, but you'll be taking your little waterbender friend out of here in pieces if you do." His mouth curved into an ugly smile. "So, let's just cut to the chase, shall we? Lay your weapons down where we can see them and the girl lives. Resist us, and she dies—and I promise you," he added with malicious softness, "I will do my utmost to bring you and your ostrich-horse down as well."
Katara sucked in a sharp breath. This was just like Zuko and the pirates all over again. It infuriated her to think that, once more, she had been reduced to helpless bait—she was a master waterbender, damn it—but underneath her indignation was a very real fear. She knew that Squashed Face had no intention of letting either of them go, no matter what he said; he wanted to have his fun with her, and he wanted to kill the Blue Spirit. There could be no negotiating with such a man.
"Well?" Squashed Face prompted when the Blue Spirit made no move to get off the ostrich-horse. "What will it b—"
"Don't do it!" Katara shouted. "He's just going to kill us both, anyway! Just run!"
She got a blow to the face for that one, and her jaw throbbed and ached from the impact, even as the metallic taste of blood filled her mouth. She must have bitten her tongue.
"Oh, you didn't like that, did you?" Squashed Face taunted.
Katara blinked dazedly, wondering if he was talking to her or the Blue Spirit. Her ears were still ringing from being hit, and her vision was a blur of white stars and black smudges. It was taking all of her effort just to stay conscious, but then something sharp pressed against her throat and it was as if clarity snapped back to her mind. She could see the broadsword being held to her neck; see the Blue Spirit tensed on his ostrich-horse with his weapon in hand, as if he were barely restraining himself from attacking. Then Squashed Face dug the sharpened edge of his blade a little further into her skin, and she gasped as she felt blood trickle free from the cut, even as the Blue Spirit made a muffled sound.
"Lay down your weapons," Squashed Face ordered in a hard voice, "or I swear I'll slit her throat right now."
Her heart pounded in her chest as she met the Blue Spirit's shadowed gaze. Maybe Squashed Face was bluffing; maybe he wasn't. Neither of them could know for sure, but her stomach still twisted in a mixture of unease and relief when the masked warrior slid off the ostrich-horse and threw his weapon down on the ground.
"And the other one," Squashed Face said, nodding to the hilt sticking out from the scabbard strapped to the Blue Spirit's back.
The Blue Spirit removed the blade and let it join its twin with a clatter; it was obvious that he was seething.
"Thanks for your cooperation," Squashed Face said, removing the sword from Katara's neck, and then he waved his hand in a signal to the other outlaws. "Kill him."
"No!" Katara screamed.
But hands were already seizing the masked warrior by his arms, trying to drag him into a state of submission. He struggled and kicked out with his legs, desperate to break free of their grip, but there were just so many of them. Even Scratch tried to get in on the action, pecking and clawing at the outlaws' backs to aid his master, but then one of the men slashed at the creature with his spear, and a pained screech reverberated through the cave as the ostrich-horse reared up and away from the sharpened tip, blood dripping from its side like crimson rain.
We're all going to die down here, Katara thought in silent horror. We're all going to die, and it'll be my fault for opening my stupid mouth and getting caught. I've killed us all.
The Blue Spirit let out a muffled grunt and fell to the ground. She could see the outlaws swarming in on him with their weapons, and then Squashed Face started laughing and something just seemed to snap inside her mind. It didn't matter that her hands were still twisted up behind her back or that she was scared and exhausted. All that mattered was that the Blue Spirit had fallen, Scratch was squawking and trying to escape from the outlaw with the spear, and Squashed Face was laughing like it was the funniest thing he had seen in the world. Squashed Face, who had hit her, mocked her, and promised to do unspeakable things to her.
Her eyes narrowed on that flattened, pockmarked face, and then she felt the familiar tugging in her gut—an energy that pushed and pulled, seizing hold of every scrap of water in the vicinity, as if invisible hands were reaching out from her body to gather her element towards her like a magnet. Something shifted in the air, humming in whispers of a brewing storm, and then there was an explosion of sound; of wood cracking and liquid bursting forth from splintered barrels, spraying them all in a chaotic surge as the water crashed down upon the outlaws like a tidal wave. Katara felt the hands holding her wrists loosen as the scarred man lost his footing, and she thrashed and struggled with all of her might until, with one good kick to his shin, she at last broke free.
Ignoring the way her arms throbbed and ached, she spun around to face the scarred man and summoned two streams of water, sending both to smash against his chest so that he was knocked off his feet. Her fingers formed claws and ice shards soon followed, pinning him in place so that he was immobilised.
"Stop wasting your time with the Blue Spirit and get the girl!" Squashed Face yelled, struggling up from where he had fallen from the deluge. "She's controlling the water!"
Katara swung around at the sound of his voice, even as he made his way towards her with murder etched into his expression. Her blue irises hardened and she let out a deep breath, raising her arms with grim concentration. Water rose up from the ground and swirled around like a hurricane, growing bigger and bigger as more liquid fused with her creation. Squashed Face froze in horror at the sight, and a faint smile curved her lips. Then she thrust her arms forward and the swirling vortex came crashing down, swallowing all into a watery embrace that smothered and choked, and then—as she flexed her fingers—froze everyone into statues of ice.
A ragged breath escaped her lips and she collapsed to her knees, suddenly dizzy. That had taken a lot of energy out of her. Still, there wasn't time to rest just yet. Groaning, she crawled over to where the Blue Spirit had been frozen, though little droplets were already melting free, which did surprise her. Shrugging off the matter, she exhaled deeply and let the rest of the ice encasing his body melt back into water, while being careful not to unfreeze the surrounding outlaws. He coughed and sat up, clutching at his side.
"Sorry about that," she said with an apologetic smile. "It's a bit hard to be selective with who I'm freezing when I'm controlling that much water."
The Blue Spirit waved off her apology, then pointed at Scratch, who had also been turned into a Scratchsicle. She scrambled over to the ostrich-horse and began the unfreezing process all over again, until she could see the animal ruffling his feathers and twitching his head in indignant confusion, as if he wasn't sure what had just happened—just that he hadn't liked it.
"I'm sorry, Scratch," Katara murmured, smoothing a hand over the bedraggled feathers. "I didn't mean to trap you in ice as well."
Scratch squawked and tossed his head, and she suddenly found herself being tugged back by a hand on her wrist. She turned to look at the Blue Spirit questioningly, but he just shook his head and then stepped forward. When the ostrich-horse reared back, showing the white of his eyes, she thought she understood. Scratch was terrified; if the Blue Spirit hadn't pulled her back in time, she'd probably have learnt for herself just why the creature had been given its name.
"Uh, I think I'll just stand over here," Katara said, taking a few more steps back.
The Blue Spirit didn't spare her a glance and slowly advanced upon the ostrich-horse, letting Scratch decide when he could come closer before he moved in to calm his frightened mount. Katara watched the two of them for a moment, seeing how gently the masked warrior stroked the feathers while taking hold of the reins, reasserting control even as he forged anew the bonds of trust that the outlaws had broken with their cruelty.
So you do know how to make friends, she thought with a twisted smile.
Just not so well with humans, it seemed. She sighed and bent down to refill her water skin, only to pause as she saw that her hand was streaked with red. No, not red. Blood.
"Scratch!" she exclaimed.
She stood up and rushed over to where the Blue Spirit was still tending to his mount, babbling about how she had seen the ostrich-horse get injured with a spear, and she'd forgot all about it with everything that had happened, but it was okay because she could fix the wound. She just needed to get close enough.
"Can you stop him from attacking me?" she asked, meeting his gaze anxiously as she got her water ready.
The Blue Spirit nodded and guided the ostrich-horse's face towards his, even as he continued his rhythmic stroking to soothe and distract Scratch from what Katara was doing. Once she was satisfied that a clawed foot was not going to come lunging for her, she took in a deep breath and placed glowing palms against the wound on Scratch's wing, sealing up the cut and stopping the flow of blood.
"There," she said, stepping back with a smile. "All done."
Scratch ruffled his feathers a bit, then took a step towards Katara. Her eyes widened in alarm, but the ostrich-horse just gave an affectionate nudge to her cheek with its beak, as if to say thank you. She couldn't stop the smile that came to her lips, and she ran a hand down Scratch's long neck, grinning even more widely as the ostrich-horse let out a contented chirruping noise.
"You're welcome," she whispered.
Scratch nudged her again and then stepped back, where he twitched in a fidgety manner that suggested he was quite ready to leave the cave if they would hurry up and get on his back. Katara exchanged a glance with the Blue Spirit, who seemed unnaturally still as he stood there staring at her. Perhaps she had surprised him with her display of healing powers.
"Got everything you need?" she asked, while summoning more water from the ground so she could top up her flask.
He nodded and tapped his swords, which had been sheathed in the scabbard strapped to his back. She smiled, but the expression faded a second later as she caught sight of one of the frozen outlaws. It was Squashed Face, trapped in an expression of murderous horror. Something twisted in her stomach.
"What should I do with them?"
The Blue Spirit spared a glance for the outlaws and then shrugged, as if to say that the men weren't their problem anymore. The ice would melt eventually. Katara bit her lip and stared back at Squashed Face. In her anger, she had not bothered to leave breathing room for the men; if she did nothing to aid them now, they would surely suffocate.
They'd deserve it, a voice whispered in her mind.
Katara shook her head. Maybe they did deserve to die, but she didn't think that she could live with herself, knowing that this would be no split-second decision made while fighting for her life. If she left them now, it would be a death sentence.
Cursing her own inability to just leave things alone, she marched over to the men and carefully unfroze the ice around their faces so that they could at least breathe. Of course, they'd shiver and suffer until the last of their frozen traps had melted, maybe even get sick from the intense cold, but that was their problem. She had given them the chance to live; there was nothing more she could—or would—do for these scum who called themselves men.
"Let's get out of here," she said, turning to face the Blue Spirit. "I'm sick of this place."
He stared at her for a moment, then just nodded and clambered on top of Scratch before holding out a hand to assist her. She accepted his help and suddenly had the oddest sensation of being weightless as she was yanked up to sit behind him. Katara frowned as she wondered what she was supposed to hold onto to stop herself from falling off—it wasn't like Scratch had a nice saddle to keep her secure like Appa—but then the ostrich-horse was moving at a rapid pace, almost unseating her with the momentum, and she didn't pause to think; she just wrapped her arms around the Blue Spirit's waist and held on tight.
It was a relief when they finally escaped the cave, greeting a sky painted in the colours of fire. Scratch also seemed happy to be out of the darkness of the outlaws' hideout and quickened his pace, as if he were about to spread his stumpy wings and take flight any moment. In no time at all they were making their way through the ruined town, past the dried up well, and then onto the dusty plains where they had seen the old man and his wagon. Katara tried to pay attention to where they were going, but now that the adrenaline rush of battle had worn off, she just felt exhausted. She had expended too much energy with her final water attack. After healing on top of such an intense display of bending—not to mention while thirsty and travelling on an empty stomach for most of the day—she just felt like a dried up sponge that would crumble any moment.
So Katara did not notice when the sky began to darken as they backtracked all the way to where the Blue Spirit had last seen the tank markings. Instead, she closed her eyes and rested her chin against the warrior's shoulder, relaxing against his back with her arms wrapped around him.
He's so warm, she thought with muzzy contentment.
It was something she had noticed every time they had touched, but now that warmth was all around her, like one of Gran-Gran's big snuggly blankets that she had used to wrap herself up in when cold. A sleepy smile curved her lips, and she let out a deep breath as she hugged him closer. When Katara opened her eyes again, the moon was up and she was lying on the ground next to a small fire. She could see Scratch curled up asleep not far from her under a scraggly tree, but there was no sign of her masked companion.
"Blue?" she called, sitting up and staring around the clearing.
Her breath caught when she saw him sitting on a boulder near the edge of the cliff, some distance away. He had discarded his undershirt and tunic, and in that moment he was like a pale statue carved into the rock, his skin almost luminescent in the moonlight. She couldn't help but stare, transfixed by the sight before her. Without the wads of fabric covering him, she saw that he was all sinewy muscle and defined ridges; a blade honed to perfection. Something warm stirred in her blood, making her pulse quicken and her cheeks flush, but then it finally occurred to her what he was doing. He wasn't just sitting shirtless on a rock; he was examining something on his chest, just below the right side of his ribs.
Katara's breath caught for quite a different reason, and suddenly she was on her feet and marching towards him. "You're hurt!" she said by way of greeting. "Why didn't you tell me?"
The Blue Spirit sighed and stood up, making to walk past her.
"Hold it!" she exclaimed, grabbing him by his arm. "You're not going anywhere until that wound is healed."
He made a frustrated sound and was about to wrench his arm free, but Katara gripped his shoulder with her free hand and turned him to face her.
"Hey," she said more softly, holding his gaze, "I know you're used to being alone and not having anyone around whom you can trust aside from Scratch, but you don't need to push me away. I just want to help."
The Blue Spirit inhaled a sharp breath, and she could feel the tension quivering in his body as they stood there staring at each, so close that she could almost see his eyes beyond the shadowed slits that hid his gaze from view. It was agonising to do nothing; to just wait like he had done with Scratch in the cave, hoping that his defences would fall and she would be allowed closer. Then he just averted his face and nodded once. He would trust her, for now.
Katara smiled in relief and reached for her water skin. "This might feel a bit weird," she warned as she summoned the liquid to surround her palms.
He just raised his right arm, allowing her access to the gash that had been carved into his ribs and which extended right round to his side. It looked as if he had already cleaned the area, though there were still a few streaks of dried blood staining his skin, even as fresh trails of crimson trickled out from the open wound. She couldn't believe that he had travelled all that time on the ostrich-horse with the injury and said nothing—not even a hint. A part of her wanted to scold him for such stubbornness and stupidity, but then she doubted he would listen. Besides, right now she just needed to focus on sealing the wound so that he wouldn't bleed to death. Didn't stop her from calling him an idiot in her head, though.
"Just relax," Katara murmured, placing her glowing hands on top of the gash.
His body tensed at her touch, but then her healing powers took root, knitting flesh back together with gentle precision, and she felt him slowly begin to lose some of his rigidity. Even as he calmed, however, his gaze continued to follow her every move, and she didn't understand why the feeling should make her stomach give a funny flutter. This wasn't the first time she had used her bending to heal someone, yet somehow the experience was so different with him—so much more intense. She was conscious of his presence like a blazing sun, so solid and warm, and just so present. By the time the blue light had faded from her hands, her heart was pounding and her mouth felt dry.
"There," she said, not quite able to resist smoothing a hand over the newly healed skin. "You're all healed."
The Blue Spirit didn't move at first, and she was surprised when he reached out and brushed his fingers against her jaw in a light caress—her bruised, throbbing jaw. "You should heal that as well," he seemed to say.
Her cheeks warmed. If her stomach had fluttered earlier, it was a whole circus act of swoops and soars now, but she somehow managed to find her voice to agree. The Blue Spirit nodded and then stepped past her to slip his shirt and tunic back on. Katara simply told herself to get a grip—really, he was just one stupid swordsman wearing a mask—and set about healing the bruise on her jaw. Once she had finished, she went to join the Blue Spirit by the fire.
"Don't suppose you have any food?" she asked after a moment.
He shook his head.
She sighed and rested back on her palms. "Great."
It seemed they really were going to have to starve. No breakfast, no lunch, and now no dinner. She almost missed Sokka's nut-shaped rocks.
The Blue Spirit leaned forward and scratched something into the dirt, close to the light of the fire.
"The hunger will pass," he wrote. "Just try to get some sleep; we'll find food tomorrow."
Katara nodded, knowing there was nothing else they could do. It was late, they were both tired, and Scratch was fast asleep. So, forcing herself to ignore the hungry grumblings of her stomach, she curled up by the fire and tucked her hands under her chin, watching him through the orange glow of the flames.
"Aren't you going to lie down?" she asked.
"Someone needs to keep watch."
"Don't be ridiculous," she retorted. "You're exhausted, even if you don't want to admit it, and I doubt anyone is going to find us out here at this time of night. You might as well just get some rest while you can. We've got another long day ahead of us, and you're not going to be of much use to me if you're barely awake to lead Scratch."
He looked like he was going to argue, but then he just sighed and lay down next to her, using his arm as a pillow. She blinked in surprise. He really must have been tired if he had been willing to give in that easily; he didn't seem like the type. Not that she was complaining. The night was cold, and having him closer made it a little easier for her to block out some of the wind that insisted on blowing. Well, almost.
"Night, Blue," she murmured sleepily, closing her eyes.
He didn't respond, of course, but then he didn't have to. Just knowing that he trusted her enough to sleep beside her was more than enough.
Phew. Lots going on in this chapter. And, yes, I totally threw in that injury to have an excuse to feature shirtless Zuko. What can I say? It's always fun to make Katara drool over him while at the same time scolding herself for doing so. You know I'm right. ^_~