Chapter 6 - A Reminiscent Breeze

Fireflies danced behind Hikoshu's eyelids, and somewhere through a thick fog, someone was kissing him.

Mayami, his mind whispered. The tender kiss, long and insistent, warmed him just as her warm breath tickled his cheek, and his body was suffused with heat. There in the sea of darkness, he floated languidly, as memories of late summer evenings on his old island home returned to him. Nights under butter-nut palms, the surf-washed sand swallowing his feet. And in the dense forest behind him, fireflies hummed on unfelt winds.

But then Mayami pulled away; her arms released him, and her lips disappeared, leaving a cold, harsh imprint in their place. That cold quickly flooded through him, tearing away his tranquil memories and scouring his limbs until only the most painful sensations remained. Now caught in the icy fog of a lonely darkness, Hikoshu could hear someone speaking.

"He's not breathing, Natquik!" That wasn't Mayami's voice. Mayami's voice was low, filled with implication even at her most innocent moments. This voice was nasally, higher-pitched. And petrified.

Natquik's voice answered her. "No, he's breathing! Just give him some room."

Not-Mayami moved further away, and suddenly the ice that had set his teeth on edge stabbed through his chest.

So cold. More recent memories returned to him, but not as quickly as the frigid air that rushed down his throat, into his lungs, his stomach. In mere seconds, everything in him froze; it was with effort he pried his eyelids open. As Hikoshu winced at the unbearable brightness, his chest suddenly clenched, and the hoarse coughs that seized him were strong enough to lift his back off the ice.

"There, he's waking up," Natquik said with some relief. In response, thin fingers clasped his cheeks. He imagined they were warm, but his skin was so numb that he didn't register their heat. The touch was comforting, though, and his uncontrollable coughing slowly subsided.

"Hikoshu," Not-Mayami murmured. Weakly he forced his eyes open again, and the woman above him came into focus.

Hikoshu was surprised to discover that the earnest face peering into his did not belong to any woman of the Water Tribe; she was an Air Nomad. Somewhat older than in his memory, she wasn't far past her mid-twenties, her hairline cut high to reveal the prominent blue arrow tattoo of her people. Her smoky-gray eyes were filled with tears, and Hikoshu marveled at the number of times he'd awoken in this same woman's arms to find her expression set in that same look of terror and grief.

For this woman, Miyo, had been his best friend of some seven years and had been with him through nearly every major event of his life. She had been with him through his airbending training, through the death of his former firebending master, Sage Yojing. She had even been his first love, when they were both younger and more inclined toward brief, if passionate, infatuations.

Now she'd returned after a year of absence, and as his body ached from invisible, icy needles, his heart ached at seeing her again.

Gently she petted his cheek with white fingers, her brow wrinkling that large arrow. "Hikoshu?"

He tried to speak. But just as he opened his mouth, a shudder tore through his spine and his jaw clamped shut over the words. Instead, his throat emitted a small whine, feeble and unrecognizable.

"Come on, you've got to warm yourself up."

Hikoshu rolled his eyes around to spy Natquik, who spoke above his head. He'd expected the waterbender to be just as wet and freezing, but Natquik looked dry. And very thankful, only his mouth still holding traces of worry. "Get some fire moving," he continued, pushing Hikoshu up into a sitting position.

Hikoshu's stomach screamed in pain and resisted the movement. "C-c-can't bend. Too co-old." How he choked out those words, he couldn't guess.

"Firebenders can't bend when they're too cold," Miyo said in unnecessary explanation, rising to her knees.

Just behind Hikoshu's shoulder, Natquik answered wryly. "Four years in the tundra with Hikoshu—I think I've figured that out."

Giving no indication she even heard him, Miyo reached forward to grab the hem of Hikoshu's coat and gave it a great tug to pull it over his head. Hikoshu's arms didn't want to respond, the muscles painfully cramped, the joints locked, but working it upward she managed to divest him of the parka.

It was then he realized that she was wet. Her usually full, long brown hair now hung in wet clumps about her face, and the yellow fabric of her habit was plastered to her body. Unlike him, though, she didn't seem to notice the cold, the lake water evaporating from her skin in faint wisps of steam.

Hikoshu was still considering why she herself was soaked when suddenly the world went from cold to burning. He gasped through his nose, his jaw still uncooperative, and his whole body shrank from the exposure. A moment later, Natquik stuffed his own coat over Hikoshu's head, the world now muffled.

"…hurts worse when you bend someone dry," Natquik was saying when his head emerged from the fur trim of the collar. "The water takes all the remaining heat with it."

Hikoshu could certainly attest to that, though the burning sensation was already fading, and his now-dry feet had begun to tingle inside his boots. Huddled in the depths of the buffalo-yak coat, he eyed Natquik as the last vestiges of the icy fog began to fade.

With each passing moment, it was becoming easier to think. But it was still hard to move, and Natquik had to haul him to a stand with Miyo's help. "Let's get him somewhere warm," the waterbender said, carrying his weight by wedging an arm under his shoulder.

Trying hard to staunch his shivers, Hikoshu could now see where he had fallen in. The black, ugly mark was still there, water still lapping at the ice. It looked as if nothing had changed since when the ice first broke. The fact that it was so jarringly different from what he remembered—from the panic he felt as he scrabbled at the frozen surface above his head—sent another involuntary shiver through him.

Walking along the lake to spare Hikoshu the misery of flying, Miyo's bison carried them back to the village. No one spoke for the journey, which prevented Hikoshu from asking the million questions he had. Such as where Miyo had come from, and who this strange bison belonged to. Or, more importantly, what had happened at the lake. But because Miyo had to guide the bison, and because Natquik wouldn't tolerate any over-exertion on his part, Hikoshu was compelled to stew in silence. So he hid in a corner of the saddle and worked hard on controlling his body temperature.

With the benefit of Natquik's coat, Hikoshu managed to get his core warm enough to bend heat to his fingers. The curse of firebending was that losing one's internal heat almost invariably resulted in losing one's bending altogether. It was an unfortunate weakness, but the trade-off was that he rarely lost the use of his element otherwise. And all it took was just a little bit of warmth for a master firebender to come back from the cold.

By the time they reached the lakeshore, flames danced along Hikoshu's fingertips.

Instead of the healing huts, Natquik chose to take them to his own home. Perhaps because, as Shaman, his hut was located on the periphery of the village and thus much closer to the lake. Perhaps because he wanted to avoid prying eyes. Natquik didn't give his reasoning as he ushered him through the narrow-arched doorway. In mere moments, Hikoshu was stripped to his waist and lying on a thick, wide kelp mat in the center of the round room.

"I told you I'm fine," he muttered obstinately, as Natquik's glowing hands—a shimmering blue-white—traced slow circles on his stomach. "I got too cold, and I inhaled a little water. That's all." His chest still hurt from the ordeal, as if his lungs had been scraped with pumice.

"Yeah, well, given how long you were under, you can't blame me for not taking chances." Natquik's eyes were closed in concentration, but his tone was scolding.

Then there was a long silence, as Natquik examined him for some harm that wasn't there, and Hikoshu examined his friend's home. The fire pit next to them was empty; Natquik hadn't even bothered with a fire, though Hikoshu could've easily lit one for him. Nearby, a low-set rope cot served as his bed, furs haphazardly hanging from its wood frame.

The rounded walls were disguised under leather hides, which were decorated with blue-and-black shapes that he knew Natquik didn't do because he knew how artistically challenged his friend really was. There were symbols of his clan, the leopard-yak, represented by a serrated circle superimposed on three Vs. A diamond chain that zig-zagged across another thin gray hide represented the legend of a giant jetsam snake that slithered over the Pole and created the snow ridges in its wake. Then, of course, the trout-crow—the symbol of his father's clan, long revered as the clan of the Rain Spirit, which was on a pelt hidden behind a hole-riddled kayak that Natquik kept swearing he'd repair someday. Everything else in the tent was fairly practical: pots of salted meat and fishing tackle, drying racks and an ice chest for clothing.

Conspicuously missing were the emblems of Natquik's trade. None of the spiritual objects special to the Shamanic healers hung from the ceiling, nor was there any sign of the ritual pots of herbs or strained jujube wine that were ubiquitous in the healing huts. Natquik hadn't been Shaman long enough to amass the kind of collection other Water Shamans enjoyed; thus, strictly speaking, his home was rather empty.

In his survey of the room, Hikoshu's gaze eventually landed on Miyo. She still stood near the entryway, as if afraid to come in, her eyes focused on Natquik's bending with an almost sick horror. She clutched her arms weakly, her back to the wall, and Hikoshu felt a pang of guilt that she had to watch this. He knew the kind of ghosts that Natquik's healing must have conjured in her; there were some wounds time had not yet mended.

Unable to meet her stare, Hikoshu turned back to Natquik in order to study him instead. Noting, again, how dry he was. "Where did you go, anyway?" He hated how scratchy his voice still sounded.

"Hmm?" Natquik didn't look up, still devoted to his task. Under his hands, Hikoshu's skin prickled unpleasantly.

"When I crawled out of the lake. I didn't see you anywhere."

Natquik stopped bending then, and the expression he wore was perplexed. Frowning, he glanced to Miyo, whom Hikoshu realized had turned a light shade of green.

She shook her head, her hand over her mouth.

"You never came up." Natquik wiped off his palms on his trousers and sat back. His coat now missing, he scratched uncomfortably at a loose copper-bone necklace, his gaze never leaving Miyo. "I went underwater to look for you three times before Miyo finally arrived. She searched for you twice before she found you and pulled you out."

Hikoshu lay in puzzled silence as he considered this. Did he become disoriented? Did he swim away from the hole? No, he'd only jumped into the water. Yet how did the ice get above him? How did he not see Miyo? "I was only under for a few seconds. I swam straight back to the surface."

Incredulous, Natquik stared at him, but it was Miyo's tremulous voice that answered.

"Hikoshu. You were gone for half an hour."

xxXxxxXxxXxxxXxx

Miyo couldn't stay with them, which was a bit of a relief for Hikoshu. She needed to take care of her bison—Tehsa, apparently, though she refused to explain where the animal came from. Hikoshu in turn needed to talk to Natquik, and while he wanted to be with Miyo, he didn't really want to worry her either.

Natquik's healing hadn't done much, as Hikoshu hadn't thought it would. Despite the fact he'd apparently spent an entire half-hour submerged, Hikoshu didn't feel particularly bad. He continued to cough roughly, his throat raw from the lake water he'd swallowed, but it was only a little annoying—hardly what he'd expect from such an ordeal.

Natquik couldn't really believe it either, his mouth quirked in a baffled purse as Hikoshu pulled on his gray inner-robe. "I've heard of men surviving that long in ice water, but…well, they usually don't bounce back this quickly." He'd started up a fire in the meantime, the mixture of driftwood and dung producing an almost foul smoke and creating a haze among the fire-skins scattered along the ceiling.

Hikoshu wanted to point out, again, that his recovery was perfectly normal for someone who was only briefly underwater, but it wasn't much use. If both Natquik and Miyo said he had never resurfaced, then he supposed he hadn't.

"So you went into the lake three times?"

"Around that." He was searching behind the hides for something. Natquik often had trouble keeping track of his possessions, particularly in his hut. "Like I said, after you fell through, I jumped in and looked for a good three minutes. Then I came back up. Back in and up, in and up. No sign." With a soft 'ah' of discovery, he produced a long stick, nearly his height, from behind a musty old pelt. "About the time I collapsed from the exposure, Miyo showed up." He swung the stick about him with a flourish.

Hikoshu leaned back to dodge, though he was well out of reach of the pole. "Miyo flew in out of nowhere?" Nodding, Natquik headed for the center of the room, just beside the fire, and bent a stool of ice from the hut floor to carry him to the ceiling.

"She apparently found out from Atua where we were headed and thought she'd come surprise us." He then used the end of the stick to push open the thin leather flap that covered the smoke hole. "And I got to give her credit—no one could've been more surprised than me."

"Same here." Hikoshu wiggled on his coat as Natquik returned to the floor. "I dreamt Mayami was kissing me. I could never imagine it was her."

That obviously took Natquik aback; he stumbled off the stool as it melted into the ice, and nearly fell straight into the fire. Only a well-placed pressing block kept him out of the flames, the butt of his stick slamming into the fire bed to brace him. "Kissing? What…?" Then, slowly, a grin grew across his face. Twirling the makeshift staff in his hands, he began to chuckle.

"What's so funny?" Hikoshu asked, but at that point, Natquik was laughing hard enough that he had to take a seat across from him, the stick against his knees. Hikoshu had a sneaking suspicion that he should be embarrassed, but as always, Natquik's humor was infused more with amusement than with mockery. Which made it hard to be chagrined.

"Miyo wasn't kissing you." He wiped tears from his eyes. Then, giving Hikoshu one of his most dashing smiles, he added, "I was." He winked for good measure. Of course.

Hikoshu stared at him. "You kissed me." And after a moment: "Seriously?"

"Pretty romantic, if you ask me." Natquik leaned back on his hands, still beaming. "Locked in a passionate embrace, our two breaths mingling." He hesitated, getting his fill of Hikoshu's disgusted expression. "Well, maybe not two—you weren't breathing much, after all. But if those sweet lips are anything to judge by, I can probably say I now know what my cousin sees in you."

Hikoshu muttered darkly, "I suppose I should've wondered why Miyo had a beard."

"Hey, I shaved today."

Time for a subject change. Especially since it'd be weeks before he heard the end of this, anyway. "What about Shaman Kinu? Isn't he still waiting?"

"Kinu will be fine. He'll figure it out." Natquik rubbed the mirth from his mouth. "And I'll explain to him what happened in the morning."

What had happened… Even Hikoshu wasn't sure what that was, but it reminded him there was one question left to ask. One that likely wouldn't come across as so coherent. "So you searched the lake pretty thoroughly, right?"

"I'd say that."

Hikoshu's heart sped up a little. "Did you see anything while you were down there?"

"Like what?"

"Like…a person." It sounded silly almost the moment he said it. Without any other explanation, it also sounded crazy, and already, Hikoshu anticipated the skepticism his question likely provoked.

As he predicted, Natquik eyed him as if to gauge his sincerity, then shrugged. "Well, given that I didn't even see you…no, can't say I did."

"There wasn't a…a body floating just below the ice?" Honestly, he didn't expect he had. After so many bizarre events—Natquik missing and the lake freezing over his head, a stranger stuck under its surface and a half-hour lost of his life—he feared that no part of that afternoon had been real at all.

A quip hung on Natquik's lips; Hikoshu could see it forming. But perhaps recognizing the troubled look Hikoshu knew he wore, he changed what he was about to say. "If I had seen a person, I would have grabbed him. There was no one down there." Softly, he finished, "Not even you."

Hikoshu had long ago warmed up, but a tremble still ran through his shoulders, and for a moment, the air was filled only with the quiet snaps of the fire. There had been someone down there; Hikoshu was sure of it. Perhaps an average person wouldn't have seen…

Natquik echoed his thought. "Was it the Spirit World?"

Hikoshu shook his head in uncertainty, his gaze locked morbidly on the kelp mat under him. It was hard and dry, the woven leaves crackling each time he shifted his weight. Yet somehow it had become the most fascinating thing in the world. Particularly since it didn't involve looking at Natquik.

Natquik sighed, uncrossing his legs. "A lot of people have died in that lake. There are a lot of legends associated with it…and a lot of spirits. So who knows?" He shrugged, the simple gesture lacking all concern. "Either it was a trip to the Spirit World, or the lake water addled your head." And with that the problem, for Natquik at least, was over. One thing Hikoshu had always admired about Natquik was his ability to let everything go. It was his philosophy that one worried about immediate problems. But the moment they ceased to have any bearing on his life, he ceased to have any thoughts about them. Too many more important things to mull over, he'd probably say, to keep your mind so crowded.

Hikoshu tried to emulate that philosophy whenever possible, and he had to admit, Natquik had certainly rubbed off on him to an extent. But this problem wasn't leaving his thoughts so quickly. Maybe it had been the lake water. Dreams and the Spirit World were often hard to differentiate, both very surreal in very similar ways. So it could've been all in his mind. Still, his instincts were telling him there was something else to it, and as often as his instincts were right…

Miyo came back then, her lithe form slipping through the door, and Hikoshu really did forget his problems. She'd dried herself off long ago, such that her robes and hair now floated around her on barely-felt air currents, as if the fabric could catch even the tiniest breezes. Her habit was predominantly orange, hanging to her feet in thick folds, and she paused to remove her sandals. Long sleeves disguised her arms, where two small blue arrows peeked out on the backs of her hands. Then, over all of it, she wore a billowing saffron shawl, loose everywhere except the front, where it was tucked into a wide and similarly yellow sash. A high orange collar hid her neck, as well as brown hair that fell nearly to her waist. It was a testament to the Air Nomad asceticism—to the general belief that appearance was merely a lie, designed to distract from the Path.

Because of that, Miyo would probably never be considered a real beauty. Hikoshu had once found her attractive—had fallen for the feather-like eyelashes, the sharp nose that looked like it'd been carved by the wind. She even had this way of quirking her eyebrows when she was torn between grinning and disgust that Hikoshu still loved years later. But he would readily admit that she wasn't beautiful the way Mayami was beautiful. Her chin was too broad, her eyes too close-set. And when she tucked her hair behind her ears, they stuck out far enough that Hikoshu couldn't resist teasing her with comparisons to lemurs. No, Miyo wasn't pretty because of her looks. She was pretty because she was Miyo. And that was good enough.

Hikoshu immediately got to his feet when she entered the hut, and even before he could say anything, she had darted across the room to throw herself into his arms. The hug was a famous Miyo-hug, painful and rib-cracking, but he returned it with equal fervor, burying his cheek into the hair above her ear. Despite the earlier swim in the lake, she still smelled like the Western Air Temple to him—sandalwood and jasmine, with a hint of the high mountain breezes. One of the things he loved most about her visits was the chance to smell the fragrances she brought with her.

They stayed in that hug for a long time, Miyo resting her head on his shoulder, her nose buried in his neck. She didn't cry, but she was visibly upset, and it made Hikoshu hold her even tighter. Finally, after a lengthy silence, she murmured, "Why is it whenever I come to visit, you're always in the middle of getting yourself killed?"

The response made him grin. "That's not true. Remember New Year?"

Dryly, she said, "Yes, that's exactly what I'm remembering." He couldn't help but laugh. And for a moment, seven years faded away. Wherever Miyo was, he'd long ago recognized, he was home. Perhaps different roads separated them, but Miyo was never far from his thoughts. Their friendship transcended anything that time or distance could put between them.

When she finally pulled back, she gave him a smile that could melt the South Pole—a smile that made him want to smile, even in his grimmest moods. And he did just that, smoothing the top of her head where several strands stuck in the air. "While I really can't complain about your timing, I've never known you to be much for surprise visits."

That smile slowly faded into a frown that formed a tiny wrinkle between her eyebrows. "Surprise visit? I sent you a message three weeks ago."

"We've been out of the village for a couple of weeks," Natquik said behind her, forgotten in the wake of their emotional reunion. He'd also stood when she entered, though he had waited for them to notice him. Blushing so faintly that Hikoshu barely caught it, Miyo turned to face him, and Natquik spread his arms in almost mock invitation. "I can't be the only one who doesn't get a hug."

"You'd enjoy it too much." Still, despite her admonishment, she stepped lightly across the kelp mat, dodged the fire pit, and pulled Natquik into a similar hug.

Similar only in a superficial sense. Like with Hikoshu, she hung her arms around his shoulders to crush him in the embrace, though with more leverage this time as they were almost the same height. Natquik's hands appeared around her waist, and he pressed his head against hers as Hikoshu had. To anyone else, it would've looked like a simple, friendly exchange, almost perfunctory in nature. But Hikoshu knew them both well enough to see how Natquik's eyes closed a little more tightly than usual, or how Miyo had swayed forward slightly to stand on her toes. Things that would mean nothing to anyone else, but said a lot to him as he waited patiently for the two to remember that they weren't supposed to be hugging this long.

When she drew back, Miyo reached up to clasp one of his beaded plaits and gave it a gentle tug. "What are these?" His arms still around her waist, Natquik's smile turned typically sly.

"Hikoshu said you like the beaded look."

"I bet you thought I'd find that joke adorable." Despite the wry note in her voice, she continued to fiddle with the lock of hair. Immediately, Natquik broke out in a broad grin that showed off every dimple.

"I already know you find me adorable."

With a suffering sigh, she pushed against his chest and out of his arms. "It's hard to find a man adorable when he's dressed in dead animals."

"I don't have to be dressed at all, if that's what you're aiming at."

Miyo had already turned away, so Natquik missed her eye-roll. "He just won't stop." Muttering almost to herself, she approached Hikoshu once more.

Though the comment hadn't been addressed to him, Hikoshu still shrugged helplessly. "He doesn't get much of a chance to flirt around here. He's related to everyone."

"He must be miserable." Raising her voice, she added, "Why have you two been gone?"

"Official Water Tribe business," Natquik said brusquely, circling around her to Hikoshu's side, where he rested his forearm on his shoulder. "No outsiders permitted." Miyo stared at him flatly, then looked to Hikoshu.

"There have been some strange deaths that they want us to look into," Hikoshu explained despite Natquik's exaggerated gasp of shock and offense. But what else could he do? Hikoshu could never say 'no' to that insistent look of hers. So he saw no point in trying. "Possibly spirit-related."

"And they want to use the Avatar?" She sounded less than happy, her chastising gaze now on Natquik. "And you let them?"

"Hey, I'm just a pawn in this, too." He held up his hands defensively. "Take it up with the chief if you have a problem."

"Don't take it up with the chief," Hikoshu said hurriedly. "It's about over with anyway. Where's your bison rider?" She seemed unhappy about his abrupt change in subject. Or perhaps with the subject he changed to.

The fact was, there were not enough bison to give every Air Nomad one. Perhaps that had been true in centuries past, but now, only a select few were granted bison as children. And Miyo wasn't one of those. As an Air Nun she knew how to fly one, but she rarely had the chance since bison never went anywhere without their riders.

Hence why he never expected her to have one now.

"Tehsa is Sinkai's bison." Running her fingers through her hair, Miyo pointedly stared at some spot below his chin. "Sinkai's on a four-month tour with a newly ordained Nun and said I could watch her while she was gone."

"Did she say you could take it on an excursion to the South Pole?"

The half-guilty way she refused to meet his eyes spoke volumes.

"She was going to be locked up in a stable for four months, otherwise. I thought I'd spare her the misery and pay you a long-due visit." Her frown deepened. "Luckily I paid it when I did."

"It's true," Natquik reinserted himself into the conversation, once more half-forgotten. 'If it weren't for you today, we'd be looking for another Avatar." Hikoshu looked at him askance. Flatterer. "Though I have to wonder, you showing up after a year of complete silence…"

"Has it been a year? I've been so busy with the new novices." Her dismissive and vague attitude wasn't lost on Hikoshu, nor was it particularly convincing. Then she brightened minutely, clapping her hands together. "But I heard that you were getting married soon, and I thought maybe I should come wish you the best."

Natquik slowly grinned, still leaning his forearm—uncomfortably—on Hikoshu's shoulder. "So you realized this might be your last chance to have your way with me? I knew the temptation would be too great."

"Natquik, don't make me regret the two weeks I spent flying here."

"He's just glad to have you back," Hikoshu said, because Natquik wouldn't say it himself. "We're both glad." At his words, Miyo glanced back to him. Her expression quickly morphed into a far happier one, and she airbended Natquik off of his shoulder with a casual wave. As Natquik hit the ground, she pulled Hikoshu into another, gentler hug.

"You have no idea how worried I was," she murmured below his neck. "Or how much I've missed you." And she really had no idea how much he missed her, too—though, like Natquik, he'd probably never tell her. But he held her anyway, enjoying the comfort of an old friend.

Until a cleared throat and a glare that he could practically feel burning into his neck pulled him out of the embrace. Growing anxious, he wheeled around to discover Mayami standing at the door, her arms folded under her coat-obscured breasts, the thin tattoo warping along her cheek as she regarded him coldly.

"Friend of yours, Hikoshu?"

Suddenly, for the first time that whole day, Hikoshu really didn't want to see Mayami. Taking several awkward steps from Miyo, he stumbled over his words.

"Mayami! It's not that. Miyo's just—"

"Who's Miyo?"

"She's no one. No, a really good friend. I mean, my best—"

"Hikoshu, why does she look like she wants to kill me?" That was Miyo, who stepped toward him even as he took another step away.

"Just wait while I exp—"

"Miyo's an old friend of ours from the Air Temple." Natquik had risen from the ground to save Hikoshu from his barely-intelligible stutter. Standing between Hikoshu and Miyo, he drew her closer with an arm across her shoulders. "And this—" here, he gestured to Mayami with his free hand, even as Miyo pushed his arm off of her "—is Mayami, my cousin and Hikoshu's very 'special' friend." He certainly didn't like the way Natquik lingered on the word 'special.' Miyo, ever astute, immediately caught onto his implication, and her bafflement melted into a devious smile as she glanced between the two.

"Is that so?"

That was enough. Already anticipating the kind of teasing he would face, Hikoshu crossed the hut to take Mayami's hand. "Can we go outside to talk?" Still glaring, she reluctantly assented with a stiff nod and followed him out of the door.

It was only when they were several paces from the entrance that Mayami unleashed her anger on him. "Where have you been? Who is that woman?" In uncharacteristic ire she waved at the ice hut, and Hikoshu cowered, stunned at what was possibly the first time he'd ever seen her jealous.

"Like Natquik said, she's a friend from the Air Temple. She's just visiting Natquik before he heads North."

Mayami still wasn't satisfied, her arms crossed once more under her breasts, blending into the lavender of her coat. "Then what happened to you today? Why do you look like that?"

Look like what? he wanted to ask, but somehow, he feared it would just strain her patience even more. So he automatically jumped to the likely explanation. "I fell into the lake while heading out to find Kinu."

Had it been anyone other than Hikoshu, or anyone other than Mayami, she might've fallen onto him with sweet caresses and fervent prayers of gratitude for his safety. And he might've petted her and whispered softly about how precious she was to worry about him so. But Mayami wasn't the kind to lavish a man with attention, and she certainly felt no concern over the safety of Hikoshu. And Hikoshu knew that if he ever tried to pet her, she might take off his hand.

That was what he loved about Mayami.

So unsurprisingly, she didn't uncross her arms, and she didn't look concerned. Instead, her glare simply lessened. Slightly. "Did you almost drown?"

Hikoshu gave a self-conscious shrug. "Maybe a little."

It was then that her collection of angry frowns dissolved, and a smile warped the tattooed line on her cheek. "You're hopeless. A waterbender who can't swim."

"Is that an offer for private lessons?" he said, approaching her almost cautiously. Apparently, though, her jealousy had burned out, and she folded him in the warmth of her arms, her blue eyes dancing.

"I think that could be arranged." She kissed his nose and then pulled away, leaving him in a small lurch. "But not now. You missed your swim lessons for the day, penguin." Hikoshu could see what she meant; the world was already turning a dull blue with the encroaching night. Just over the horizon, the wide half-moon towered near a distant ridge. "I suppose you're going to be busy with your old airbender friend?"

"She only visits once a year." Hikoshu turned to watch her as she sauntered past. Tall, thin, supple, with her hair pulled back in a half-bun and the rest cascading over the hood of her parka, highlighted by the moon. Simply beautiful.

She didn't even turn, her boots almost floating over the snow. "Then I'm heading home. I need to catch you up on something, but it can wait. Let me know when you want those lessons." She paused then, casting a coy look over her shoulder. "I'm glad you're finally back, penguin."

Hikoshu stared after her with what he suspected was a stupid grin. No, it wasn't love, but it was about as close as he wanted it to be.

As Mayami left, it seemed the light went with her. In moments, his lingering happiness faded, and the worries he'd held at bay crept along the snow with the night. As Hikoshu turned to retreat back into the hut, he caught sight of the silhouetted skyline, which had settled into a dark, bruised color. He knew somewhere beyond that horizon was the lake, and whatever remained below the ice.

Clinging to his last thought of Mayami, Hikoshu ducked hastily into the warmth and safety of the hut, away from the night.

A/N: Thanks again to my beta, Inazuma Akai, for looking over this chapter!