As promised, here's Chapter 8, which more or less wrote itself. This Chapter is dedicated specifically to everybody's favorite grandma masksarehot, who not only was one of the amorrians who inspired me to write this, but has shown constant support and encouragement for this fic at every turn. Thanks, lady!

It occurred to Korra a few miles out that she had forgotten to grab a parka again. The arctic wind stung at her cheeks, turning them ruddy and fluttered her sleeves around as she posed in the stern of the boat. Cold bombarded her at every angle as she twisted and undulated her limbs in harmony with the waves below. Amon had insisting on getting them past the various shoals and huddlings of ragged rocks that surrounded Tyra, but quickly hesitated once the shore had shrunk to a thin, dark ribbon. The abrupt changing of the guard spurred a "tired already?" from Korra, though she knew it was his fear of the open ocean. To her confusion, when he sat down in the prow, he turned his back to the horizon and faced her instead. It was uncomfortable to have his steely eyes so keenly fixed on her. Was this how he stared at her with the mask on?

"Shouldn't you watching ahead to help me pilot?" she finally piped up.

"No, Avatar," he replied apathetically," I'd much rather watch you." There was a note of something paranoid in his voice.

Korra huffed and narrowed her eyes. "Listen, we're going to be spending the next spirits-know-how-many hours together, can you call me something other than 'Avatar'?" she strained her voice down to mock his signature guttural snarl.

"When you learn to use my name, I'll learn to use yours," he drawled, staring up at her from under his kinked brows. Most of the time his speech sounded like it had been rehearsed to death, which put Korra off fiercely.

And call him Noatok? She silently murmured it, but the name felt foreign and awkward in her mouth. It belonged to an idealistic young man. A little dour, sure, but passionately dedicated to his work. The man brooding before her lost it the moment he donned the mask. Noatok was the final acceptance that Amon was a decent human being.. "Nope. Sorry, can't do it," she winced, as if the word burned her tongue, "Avatar it is."

"Besides, Avatar is what you are, is it not?"

"Well yeah, but I don't go around calling you Hypocrite or Liar or Crazy Guy Who Used to Run Around in a Mask. Oh! Or maybe I could call you Bloodbender!"

The umiak shuddered dangerously as Amon sprang forward and seized Korra by the throat. His fingers tightened against her neck in one swift, solid motion- though choking didn't seem his intention. He jerked her face closer and growled," Don't ever call me that."

Contrary to her tenuous situation Korra stared back, unafraid. She was defiant, but summoned Aang's ominous calm, "Let me go, Amon, or I'll sink this boat. I'll make sure you don't come back this time."

For a tiniest fraction of a second, Korra saw her old foe's eyes widen in fear before they returned to their usual resentful squint. She thought she felt a tense steam knocked from his lungs collect on her cheeks, which swelled in triumph. She had him. One by one his fingers recoiled from her neck, though they took their time sliding off of the soft skin. Once more he took his seat, albeit hunkered in glowering agitation- Korra thought he looked like a toddler that had been sent to bed without dessert. "Bend the boat, Avatar," he spat.

Hours passed before they spoke again. The pleasant blue sky, inhabited by fluffy clouds that coasted along like sky bison slowly filled with a creeping gray- big enough to block out the Earth Kingdom, it seemed. Korra's waterbending became even hastier in hopes of finding land, any land.

"I don't like the looks of that," Korra panted, staring up at the darkening sky.

Amon had been watching, too. After all, for three years he had lived at the seaside, so he knew the signs La gave when he was about to rage. A cold wind whipped from the north, making them both shiver; it smelled like salt and damp.

"We need to land, there's a storm coming."

"Oh? And where do you suggest we do that?" she spat out a piece of hair that had flapped into her face.

The Equalist stood up again, but didn't lunge for her. "Perhaps if both bend the boat we can get back to shore before the storm gets its worst."

Before she could answer, he had already begun to propel the umiak around in a steep turn back to Tyra. While self-preservation told her that this was the right thing to do (being a small boat in a massive ocean looking for an island that may or may not be of that plain), but a pain in the small of her back throbbed when she looked to the East. No. They would never find the island there. The only way was to keep going into the heart of the storm. Summoning the remainder of her energy, she jolted the boat back towards the impending squall.

Amon noticed the resistance before they had even turned. "Avatar, what are you doing?"

"We aren't going to find the Island that way, we have to let the storm take us," she admonished, "If we don't, then we might as well go back to town and tell them the kids are dead. We have to get to the Spirit World!"

"If we go into that storm then we will go to the Spirit World." Fear still gripped him, though would never admit it out loud to her. Slowly, he released of control over the surrounding water. It was enough to turn the boat the rest of the way back towards the storm. With a swift whip of her arms, they shot off like a festival rocket.

"Trust me!" her voice soared over the wind and sang into his ears. The umiak skipped like a stone over the waves which grew choppier by the minute, but it would not knock her from her center.

Suddenly the boat ran smooth. Instead of bobbing helplessly over each white-capped swell, it tore through them like a badgermole in earth: their course was smooth and straight. Korra looked over her shoulder and saw Amon forming his perfect, collected postures amid the spray. While her power and tenacity carried them over the waves, his control and prowess kept them stable. Between the two master waterbenders, she thought smugly, there wasn't anything La couldn't throw at them.

The ocean spirit heard her, it seemed. Rain plummeted upon them, light as children's laughter at first, but quickly leadening to freezing needles, mixed with soggy snow. Korra's clothes were completely soaked and felt like they had turned to ice with the constant barrage of wave and wind. Between waterbending postures she summoned fire from the core of her chakras in hopes of keeping her body warm. Her breath met the miserable air in thick plumes of steam.

The further they went, the wilder the waves tossed them. They crashed against the sides of the hide boat and ran over the gunwhales. Amon was able to maintain the craft's pitch and push the water out before it had an opportunity to pull them down, but his form had lost a great deal of composure.

Then the sea opened its mouth. In the ever maddening waves a swell the size of a Republic City tenement crested in view, swallowing the smaller white caps greedily. Both haggard waterbenders gawked at the behemoth.

"Korra! Brace yourself!" Amon roared from the stern. With a wave of his hand he froze his boots to the kneeboard and did the same for the young woman.

But she broke her feet loose, looked back at him, and smiled toothily, "I've got this!"

Storms were a fight between air and water; sky and sea. A waterbender didn't fear the sea, an airbender didn't fear the sky, and the Avatar wasn't afraid of either. She peered through the downpour ahead and saw it: the trough. The canyon in the surface where the wave was sucking its energy. If she timed it just right...

"Amon!" she shouted over her shoulder, "When I give the signal, jet as hard as you can behind us!"

The Equalist gawked at the realization of her plan, which made Korra even giddier. "No," he argued, "You can't be serious!"

"Too late!" she cackled, twisting her arms in the circular, sylph-like postures, "Jet or swim, Amon!"

As the bow teetered into the trough of the massive swell, Korra struck a torrent of air from each outstretched arm. From the stern, Amon drove them forward with all of his might. A frothy white wake like a rooster crow's tail spouted behind them for a few brief moments before the entire boat was sent upward. They rode the wave to its very crest then took to the air like a biplane, nearly vertical. Before anything (or anyone) could fall out, however, Korra leveled them off with a few quick gusts. Gracefully, they soared through the rain before she could no longer handle the weight and sent them in a steep arc back toward the water. It reminded her of riding an air glider for the first time. There was the same thrilling jolt in her stomach as they plummeted. To her disappointment, Amon was silent. Braced for the worst on the kneeboard, as expected. A shriek or a girly wail would have made the moment perfect.

Keel met water with a cacophonous splash and a lurch that threw Korra from her footing. She hugged onto the prow for deal life. The waves were still wild, but it seemed that they had sailed past the worst patch- though it took the young Avatar multiple attempts to stagger upright on the slick board. Once she was vertical, she threw her arms up in the air and crowed, "Wooohooo! That was awesome!"

Amon didn't share her enthusiasm. His steely glare bored into the back of her neck beneath a curtain of his soaked hair, "Are you deranged?!"

Brave words coming from a former terrorist mastermind, she thought. The young woman grinned maniacally, "Oh lighten up! We're alive, aren't we?!"

His arms lurched forward to fold in resignation, but he quickly remembered piloting the boat. Korra also resumed her waterbending forms, but not without a healthy modicum of excited chatter.

"I hope we hit another one! Maybe we can fly this baby clear to the Northern Air Temple! Aw... man, we've got to do that again!"

"Avatar," Amon groaned, "Focus please, before you actually manage to kill us."

"Awww, you're back to that again?" Korra asked after hiccuping a fireball to dry off her sodden mittens. Every inch of the waterbenders' clothing was drenched, though they refused to complain out of mutual stubbornness.

"I beg your pardon? Back to what?"

"You called me Korra," she noted with an odd glee," I thought for a second that icicle shoved up your ass actually melted."

Amon, leader of the Revolution didn't seem to appreciate that mental image, particularly accompanied by the Avatar's peals of laughter. She couldn't see his face (and didn't dare turn), but an aura of gloom slunk bitterly across the umiak and made her worried that he'd seize her again. Right. Amon didn't laugh. Amon didn't make jokes.

The young woman scanned the gray horizon and shivered: snow, drizzle, and windy nothingness stretched leagues before her, as far as she could see. Once more, she summoned a handful of flame to warm her cheeks and stiff fingers. The orange glow was comforting and Korra closed her eyes to let the heat kiss her tenderly... until a tiny spout of water splashed over the side and fizzled it out. "Hey!" she whined, spray dripping down her face.

A sardonic snort erupted behind her.

It couldn't be.

Dumbstruck, Korra whirled around to see Amon's face cracked by a smile. Did he just? The smirk contorted his scars and brought out the lines around his mouth, but instead of looking older he simply seemed alive. In a way, younger. She hid her awe (because this had to be something as rare as an eclipse) behind a glaring pout. "What was that for? It's cold up here, y'know?!"

The smirk faded, but did not disappear entirely. It seemed to find a home in the hollows and lines of his face. It certainly suited him better than the scowl. "It hardly seems fair that you should be able to warm yourself while I freeze as well," he observed wryly.

"Ohoh!" she whooped mischievously," You want to be fair? Fine!" In the spirit of reciprocity, she drew a glob of water from beneath the keel and sent it bursting into his new facial expression. Both were blinked away in bewilderment, which sent the Avatar back into volleys of laughter. Being the sort of man unable to stand her derision, Amon returned fire with a fan of fluid that unfurled all over her. The sudden cold made her shriek and before she knew it, she had replied with her own angry riposte.

They fought harmlessly for several minutes, though their wet clothes hung pathetically over their shivering forms and the rain continued to fall. Amon's attacks were punctuated by shocked screams from Korra, while her equally ferocious replies elicited an illusive laugh that sounded rusty. As though it had been nearly forgotten. It wasn't until she screeched from a jet of ice cold water slapping against the swell of her backside that they remembered where, why, and who they were. Immediately she bit her lips to stifle her squeal and any chatters from her teeth while Amon stood in the stern, ashamed of himself... yet silently victorious, like the cat owl that ate the canary hamster. They looked at each other, but didn't allow their stares to meet.

"Do you hear that?" he panted out white, wet words. Korra was grateful that someone had broken the frozen silence after that collective lapse in sense. Did they just have a splash fight like a pair of hormonal teenagers? She could hardly believe it- she just had a splash fight with her bitter enemy, the scourge of her nightmares, the man who tried to destroy her... or did she? When she vehemently shook her dripping head it wasn't in response to his question, but wondering if she had gone insane. It had to be the cold getting to her.

"Listen," he urged and tilted an ear into the drizzle. After a few more minutes of self-loathing, Korra did too. Somewhere in the snow and mist something was resonating- like a tuning fork or the hum of an engine. The more they listened the more they could pick up subtleties, like a thousand little voices whirring together. Like the buzzing of bumbleflies or the wind whistling through a stand of marsh reeds.

Korra could only stand amazed for a few moments before she swung her arms around and surged the boat towards its source. That had to be it. It sounded just like her dream and nothing of this world could make a sound that strange. Amon was transfixed, but shook his damp head and joined her. Even though they were both powerful benders, the hours of piloting the craft through surf and squall left them drained. Any moment they felt they would collapse- though they were both too proud to say, it was clear in their weary expressions.

"Look," she whispered with sparkling hope," Can you see it?"

As the chorus grew stronger, a gray shape peeked out of the drizzle. It was mounded like the back of a sleeping polar bear dog, but covered in tall quills of dead trees. Tall black rocks ringed its perimeter, making it very formidable.

Amon spoke as if dazed, "Go left. I remember- there's a beach where we can land."

A beach, she puzzled. That hadn't been in her dream. If she hadn't brought him with her would she have figured it out? Would she have found the island at all?

The boat skimmed the now calm waters as they circled, giving a chance for the snow caught in their hair and crusting their clothes a chance to melt. Thankfully the island was relatively small and soon a white stretch of beach peeked out between the rocks. To the waterbenders, it could have been an old friend waving hello from the smiles that broke onto their faces.

"We made it!" she whooped," Oh man I am going to build a massive fire! And I'm starving!"

Like a creeping chill, Amon chided, "Remember why we're here. We need to find the stone and send you to the spirit world."

"Which will go a lot quicker if I'm fed," the Avatar sniffed obstinately, which made him groan. "Oh come on, I know you're cold and hungry, too."

They coasted into the shallows and came to a grinding halt against the pale sand. While Amon tarried in the lapping surf to fish out a few parcels of supplies, Korra launched herself off of the umiak and ran around the beach like a rabid boarcupine. It felt so good to be able to move her feet, to be on dry land at last. Despite her fatigue from the journey she somehow found the energy to bound over the beach, tumble on the snow-frosted dunes, and cartwheel with her nearly-frozen eartails flapping in the breeze. She ended up, giggling, on the far end of the shore.

"We haven't got time for this!" Amon's irritated baritone called from yards off. From her current vantage point on top of a dune, he looked like a faceless indigo blotch. He was right, of course. The sky was darkening- not from the storm, but the coming of dusk.

Korra sighed. She tugged her wet tunic off of her collarbone and prepared to go help him unpack the umiak when she heard a fluttering sound. Like bird's wings, but more fitful. It came from a nearby cluster of rocks. Except for the singing, which seemed to have died down, the island seemed completely uninhabited- even by seabirds. Could it be the spirit of the north wind that Eska had mentioned

"Hello?" she hazarded.

The flapping sound continued, but stayed behind the rocks.

The young woman gulped and poked her head over the rubble. A pair of large yellow eyes greeted her.

Korra barreled down the beach screaming like a rooster crow, "Amon! Amoooooooooon!"


The Equalist immediately dropped the bundle of gear in his hands and took up a harpoon. His legs kicked up a trail of snow and grit as he ran to meet her. Something had to be wrong, she had to be in trouble.

"Korra! Korra! What' is it?" he sputtered fiercely. The look of pure concern plastered on his face was impressive.

She reassured him," It's fine, I'm all right. But look, I found the Spirit of the North Wind!" With a bitten back smile (she felt a bit guilty getting him so worked up), she held up a pile of white feathers and fluff scarcely larger than a kuai ball. Its features were indistinguishable, save for a massive set of golden eyes that blinked lazily and a tiny black beak. The owl stared at him for a moment, then yawned, exposing a little pink flag of a tongue.

Amon returned to being peevish, with his anxiety wasted. "That's not the Spirit of the North Wind."

"Well then what is it?" she replied defensively. Upon giving the creature a closer look, it didn't seem obvious- but the Spirit World was a weird place anyhow, what with pandas guarding forests and painted women hanging around lakes. The owl spirit blinked, then wriggled out of her grasp. It landed with a hollow thud. Korra decided, powerful spirit or not, that it was a ditsy-looking thing.

"Because that's Ookpik."

It took remembering the gravity of their situation to keep Korra from laughing. That was Ookpik? This adorable ball of fuzz was the powerful spirit she and Jinora suspected was the culprit? "How do you know?"

"Northern Water Tribe children are given toys made in her form. Her presence protects them from danger," he explained absently, staring down at the creature. Out of the feathered sides of her plump body, two tiny wings flapped furiously. She shot up like a bouncing ball and fluttered back down a few feet away. She winked at the two waterbenders... or appeared to.

"I think she wants us to follow her," Korra chuckled. She knew Ookpik was probably an important guardian spirit, but it was impossible not to smile at a living stuffed toy (though Amon was succeeding well enough). The owl spirit hopped silently in place to confirm

They gathered up a pack of supplies each and ran after the strange spirit, who had fluttered to where the beach met tree-studded hill. Considering their amount and age, it was astonishing that not a single fallen tree littered the forest floor. They were perfectly straight, almost uniform.

The path Ookpik led them on, however, was not. For nearly an hour the mute owl guided them over hill and crevice, around rocks in circles, over the same stream twice, and into a massive snowbank. After looping a particular tree three times, they had had enough. It was dark and neither waterbender had been able to dry off or warm themselves, save for a ball of fire in Korra's hand that lit the way.

"What gives, Ookpik?!" the Avatar groaned around a mouthful of dried fish. If their path had been anything near a straight line she could have tolerated its length, but the owl seemed to have the directional sense of Bolin after half a bottle of cactus juice.

With a heavy flurry of her wings, Ookpik flitted up then landed on Amon's head. From under her round belly (or what they had assumed to be her belly) jutted a small black foot tipped with talons. For such a on otherwise harmless-looking creature, they were massive. The foot grabbed repeatedly in Korra's direction.

Amon winced," I think she's hungry."

"Really?" Korra nearly snorted up her fish at the sight. It looked like he was wearing a massive, blinking fur hat.

"Yes," he shrugged his shoulders up," Hurry please, she's digging her other foot in..."

A little digging from her pack produced a generous piece of blubbered seal jerky, fairly tender so she could break off bites for their dotty spirit guide. "Here you go, Ookpik," she waved a chunk at Amon's forehead. He sighed in resignation. They would have a funeral for his dignity when they got back, she thought with a snicker.

The owl wasn't having it; she knew when she was being duped. Suddenly, Ookpik lunged forward, snatched the entire piece of jerky from Korra's hand, and flew to a nearby boulder. They expected her to take her time ripping prize into strips and guzzling it down in the manner of most raptors, but this was no ordinary bird. Half of Ookpik's head split to reveal a massive jaw lined with serrated black teeth that looked like volcanic glass. It hinged open like a hungry snake. Within a single, voracious bite, the meat was swallowed whole and the hellish-looking mouth disappeared into white fluff.

Amon looked bewildered- that had been using his head as a perch. The Avatar, however, seemed amused, "Huh... welp, that's the Spirit World for you..."

Now sated, Ookpik resumed happily bouncing around the forest while the waterbenders followed with renewed vigor (considering the recent revelation about their guide's anatomy). When Yue had risen above the skeletal canopy, they stopped once more. The owl had roosted in the crook of a tree that stood on the crest of a hill. On the other side they could see a pale glow that illuminated the surrounding trunks. Korra immediately snapped out her flame.

They ran to the source of the haunting light and came upon the pale stone from their dreams, surrounded by green grass untouched by snow. While Amon was cautious and stood studying the object in its periphery, Korra couldn't help but reach out and touch it. Cold, like ice, and smoother than glass. City lights paled it in brightness, but it gleamed in iridescent blue, purple, and brilliant white.

"The Tear of the North Star," she murmured, dumbstruck. Ookpik must have led them in circles until the moon rose, otherwise its glow wouldn't have been as bright.

Since they had finally stopped, Korra made a proper fire from grass surrounding the stone soaked in oil. The search for dry kindling had proved futile after the storm and the snow that continued to fall in sparse flakes. Once the lapping golden heat touched their skin, they became acutely aware of how cold they had been for so long. They had forgotten what warmth felt like. As Korra dug through the packs for substantial food, Amon bended snow from the hill into an overhanging canopy. The abusive elements had turned their flesh ashen and Korra's lips were beginning to tinge a sickly purple.

He slid off his thick parka and held it near the fire. With tired sweeps, he extracted the water from its fibers. Korra watched him from the other side, chin to her knees. He had slightly unbuttoned his sopping wet tunic at the neck to warm his skin and as he moved she swore she saw a smudge of faded blue. Noatak's tattoos, she thought, drifting back to her dream.

In truth, studying him now, he didn't seem too physically changed from back then. Time shaped everyone, differently. So did experience- but what had he seen? What turned the idealistic, perhaps admittedly hunky youth into the brooding man whose eyes always seemed to be filled with dark regret. Even when he smiled.

"You should dry off your clothes," he advised flatly. He had sensed her gaze upon him and seemed relieved when she looked away to examine her own garments.

Korra remembered that all she wore under her tunic were her wrappings. No way she'd take it off in front of him. "I'm good!" she replied.

Amon rolled his eyes. "Listen, you know very well..."

Before he could lecture any further, she stood up (albeit crouched under the icy roof) and summoned gusts of warm air from the fire. Almost instantly she was dry, though she couldn't shake the cold numbness in her hands and feet. "There," she sniffed haughtily, "All dry. Spirits, you're worse than my Dad."

That remark made him visibly sulk. With a boastful grin, Korra unwrapped a greasy parcel which had been buried in the very bottom of her bag: a roasted slab of tiger seal meat, stuffed with wild garlic. Another generous gift from Eska. She divvied up her piece and stuck it on the end of a stick to warm over the fire.

"Incoming," she warned before tossing a share over to her sullen companion, which he opted to eat cold and slightly raw. As she tore off warmed morsels to chew, she watched him. It had been something she wondered about, in those bored moments after the fall of the Revolution. When he was a forgotten threat.

"Say Amon?"

"Hm?"

"I was wondering... when you were with the Equalists and had the mask on and all... how did you eat in that thing?"

His steely stare flickered up to hers. It almost seemed offended that she'd asked, though after a moment he humored her. "I didn't," he croaked," I refrained from eating while in the presence of my brethren."

Korra whistled. She always assumed that he was surrounded at all times by his cronies or Equalist fangirls- like a politically rebellious Tahno. Or that he only ate noodles because they could be slurped through the mouth slit in his mask. The image of a fully outfitted Amon with noodles dangling from his mask made her snort.

"What?" he snarled.

"Nothing. Nothing... just..." she took a steadying breath, "That- uh- must've been annoying. Being in the mask all the time."

Amon was quiet, seemingly debating with himself over revealing this sort of information to his nemesis. After a deep, agitated breath, he confessed," I didn't wear the mask all the time. As I said, only in the presence of the followers. That day- at the arena, was the first time any of them had seen my true face."

"So then..." Korra mused apprehensively, putting two and two together.

"Yes. I conducted certain affairs around the city in disguise. Reconnaissance, mainly. I used to pose as a worker in Hiroshi Sato's factory- I wanted to know what sort of man I was dealing with and the conditions of his non-bending employees. Sometimes I attended Equalist rallies at the university. I got myself arrested under an alias to better understand how to break my brethren out of the Republic City jail... and..." he gave her a particularly startling smile, "I attended all of your Pro-Bending matches."

What little warmth Korra had acquired in the last half hour sapped from her veins. She gaped at him, stared at him trying to remember if she saw him at the arena or around town. How often was he mere steps behinds her and she had no idea? "Did... did.." she sputtered, "Did we ever talk?"

The Equalist seemed pleased with his handwork, though none of it mattered any more. He shook his head, "No. On a few occasions, I was tempted- your little coming out soiree to tease the press, for one. But you knew my voice far too well by that point, too large of a risk."

Korra's mind was swimming. Most people wore masks to hide who they truly were, all Amon had to do was take his off. No one would have ever suspected- even her after that terrifying night on Memorial Island. And Republic City- it's citizens- no idea that they were really looking out for the wrong visage...

"So did you ever pose as a waterbender?" The acid in her voice left no doubt as to what she was insinuating.

Amon's snarled, "I gave up waterbending for the Equalists. If there had been a way to cleanse people of their impurity without using bending I would have given anything to discover it." His hands balled into fists to fight the obvious anger surging through him: Korra was awakening old demons.

"Listen," the Avatar urged gravely, "I understand why you hated benders. There were a lot of thugs taking advantage of innocent people and the council wasn't doing anything about it. Your father was one of them. Yeah, there are a lot of benders who abuse their power... but there are just as many who use it for good and you had no right to pass judgement for the evil of a few."

"That's beautiful rhetoric, but it still ignores that most of the world wasn't born lucky like us. Someone needed to unite them, to recognize that they possess dignity, importance. That they can defend themselves against corruption and privilege."

"You're right. And that someone wasn't you- that's a fight for non-benders to lead. And they have."

Amon's boiling rage quelled to sate his curiosity, "What?"

Korra smiled serenely. That's right, he probably didn't know. News of the changes in Republic City probably hadn't reached Tyra's remote shores or his anonymous exile. "The Equalists are still around- they've gotten a lot of good things done in the city and they did it all without masks or scaring people. Non-benders are in the police force, armed with your gloves. They have their own representative on the council now, Rinchen- your Lieutenant, he gathered up your supporters after you disappeared. Everyday, things are getting a little better for them..."

"Finally, progress. After all that work, all that blood our cause has been realized," he ranted proudly. It was eerie how quickly he slipped back into his old patter, his old dramatic intensity. At the very lease for her own sake, Korra couldn't let him stay there...

"I guess," she shrugged, "Except that the first thing Rinchen did was publicly denounce you as a traitor. Also that you were crazy.. I mean, it's true, people do say you were the inspiration behind the movement making ground... but they use you as an example of what not to do."

At the end of her report, despite his Lieutenant's further stinging betrayal, Amon was beaming with pride. "But we still made a difference. Our pains did, in the end, improve the lives of the nonbenders. However the world thinks of me- of Amon- doesn't matter as long as progress has come to pass."

It wasn't the conclusion that she approved of, but Korra couldn't refute that it was true. Sure, Amon's name was used as a slur in the city's underbelly synonymous with 'traitor' and current Equalists were forbidden to utter it in polite society- but things had changed for the better in the wake of the Revolution. She sighed, cracking her tired shoulders, "I guess. That's kind of like saying that Harmony happened because the Fire Nation killed Katara's mother, but... sure, you're kind of right."

There was a lot more unsaid. Amon looked as though he was fighting to keep a bottle full of frustration and bitterness corked while she had several questions still poking at her- but she was anxious now that her belly was filled. Only a few feet away, the Tear of the North Star sat gleaming in its celestial beauty. As her thoughts turned to Jinora, Naga, and the children of Tyra, it seemed to glow even brighter- like a lantern lighting her path.

Korra staggered to her feet and stretched. On the opposite side of the fire, Amon was still lost in Equalist nostalgia. She cleared her throat, "All right. I'm heading out. I'm going to need you to watch me while I'm gone."

Amon quirked his head quizzically, "Watch you...?"

"Take care of my body while I'm out. I need to be able to find it to come back. Just make sure nothing tries to kill me or Fire Nation princes steal me or anything, okay?"

The joke was lost on him, but he nodded. Just to make sure neither of them froze to death, Korra augmented the fire with a heavy stream of bending from her mouth. Her last (and only) trips into the Spirit World didn't take too long, but she remembered stories from Aang's time of him being out for days on end and returning half-starved. She also wasn't completely sold on leaving her physical body with her former enemy, alone, in the middle of the ocean where no one could find it... but Ookpik was nearby, dozing on a branch. Surely as a spirit guardian she would snap Amon's head off if he tried anything...

She sat down in a modified lotus form that she always found more comfortable than the one Tenzin taught her. Behind her, the Tear of the North Star gleamed brighter than ever. The last, physical thing she saw before clearing her mind was Amon, staring in silent reverence at her side, half of his face highlighted in the glow of the Star.

From the cool waters of thoughtlessness that eventually enveloped her like welcome sleep, Korra slid into a forest feet first. In some ways, it looked a great deal like the island- covered in tall, stately trees, except these were alive. Their leaves spread in a thick canopy all the colors of dawn: pink, orange, and purple, shot through with silver twigs and boughs. The swirling, murky sky above was its usual dull tawny for the Spirit World this time of year... or any time, really. With an unceremonious grunt she landed in a pile of rectangular purple leaves that smelled of cinnamon and orange peel. She fished a leaf out of her her hair and looked around the clearing for a welcoming party.

Who would she seek out? Perhaps a friend of Ookpik or Yue- but where? The Spirit World was vast and unnavigable, even with the memories of her past lives offering advice. It seemed like it was always changing, almost to tease her. Thankfully though, decent help was always close at hand. Korra thought of who she wanted to see most at that moment...

"Did Ookpik send you on a wild turkey goose chase?" asked a familiar, jovial voice behind her.

The Avatar whirled around and saw a tall, bearded man leaning on an weather-beaten stone shrine, gray eyes twinkled as he grinned down at her. A smile equally as big and toothy split her own face the second she felt his presence.

"Aang!"

Notes

-As noted in Chapter 3, Ookpik is the Inuit word for owl. However in the 1960s, Ookpik became a mascot for Indigenous/First Nations handicrafts and spawned an entire generation of stuffed toys and books. So really she's not too far off as a protector of children (teddy bears have been doing that for a hundred years, after all).

-Rinchen is a Tibetan name that I liked. Not insinuating that Lieu is an airbender by any means, I just felt that I couldn't call him Lieu or Lu Ten with a clear conscience. Sorry fandom! (I still love Lieumon, might allude to some later.)

-This chapter was written to the soundtracks to Nausicaa in the Valley of the Wind (the latter part of the Requiem was inspiration for Ookpik) and Princess Mononoke (both by the incomparable Joe Hishaishi) and The Island: Come and See by the Decemberists.