A tauren guard stood outside the tent where Aang was held, less to keep him in and more to prevent over-reactive citizens from entering.
The city of Thunder Bluff did remind him of home in many ways, and sitting there in the dark, cool tent, taking in the scents and sounds, calmed his troubled mind somewhat. Somewhere a bonfire roared, and the people played drums and woodwinds around it, singing in their voices like thunder echoing over the plains. He could hear crafters working with cloth, wood and stone in the surrounding structures. The smell of sweet corn as it was mashed reached him.
Of course, he also smelled leather and meat, and that reminded him of the Water Tribes. But it was homey in a different way. He thought of Katara, wondered where she was. Was she back on the island, trying to find him to no avail? Or had she also been brought along, dropped somewhere in this weird, hostile world? If so, he hoped the tauren found her too.
Baine didn't visit again that night, and Aang easily slipped the ropes holding his arms, and laid down to sleep instead.
An hour of tossing and turning passed instead, and he sat up. He couldn't rest, worrying about everything. The Fire Lord, set to use the fire-amplifying powers of the passing comet to set all the Earth Kingdom ablaze. Deathwing, a giant, evil dragon ripping the planet of Azeroth apart at the seams. His own friends, either trapped back home without him to save them by stopping the Fire Lord, or trapped here, possibly getting kidnapped or killed because of a war they had nothing to do with! It was just too much, too much.
But he was here for a purpose, wasn't he? Because of Deathwing. Aang had spoken with dragons before. He had humbled himself before the last living dragons on his world, in exchange for their teachings. He couldn't believe a member of such a noble species could truly be evil. If he had a chance, he believed he could get through to this rampaging dragon somehow, turn him back to good.
He knew what his friends would say about that, of course. The same things they said about his hopes to deal with the Fire Lord non-lethally.
In times of doubt, he often reached back into the minds of his past lives to ask for their guidance. He settled himself into a meditative position, closed his eyes and let his thoughts drift into the midnight of his furthest memories, the ones no longer a part of his living body.
Avatar Roku appeared kneeling before him. Aang opened his eyes. Thunder Bluff was gone, replaced by a blue, misty expanse.
"Avatar Roku, you heard what Baine said," Avatar pleaded. "This world's in trouble as much as mine is! I must be here because I'm supposed to help them!"
"Aang," Roku said severely, "do not forget your duty to your own people. The Fire Lord will cement his conquest in just three days' time. You - they - cannot afford to have you wasting your time on a strangers' world."
"But how am I supposed to get back? As long as I'm here -"
"Use your time to find a way! You were born to be the protector of your world. It needs you, now more than ever."
Aang sighed. He knew Roku was right. But he knew his own thoughts couldn't be wrong, either. Was this supposed to be the greatest test ever? To choose between two endangered realms, or somehow save them both? He had to find a way. Compassion was his people's way. Balance was the Avatar's purpose.
The elder Avatar faded, but the spiritual realm did not. As Aang watched, new forms came out of the mists, standing before him. He recognized them all as tauren.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"I am Cairne Bloodhoof, father of Baine," said the one in front. "These are the spirits of tauren who have passed since the war."
There were so many. Aang's heart ached. "Why have you come to me, spirits?"
"All who seek the guidance of those before them may find us here."
"Am I supposed to save your world?"
"I cannot tell you the future, or the minds of fate and the Earthmother. Ordinarily I would tell you 'no'. But I know you're no ordinary child. You house a powerful spirit of nature in you. Perhaps the spirit of our world called out to yours, called for help when ancient evils threaten all. But, perhaps not. I must warn you: Baine and my people may stand with you, but the rest of the Horde will not. Do not ask to present yourself to Warchief Garrosh. Once, he cared for honor, but no longer. In his efforts to prove himself a powerful warrior and step out of his father's shadow, he lost his way. He would slaughter you without a second thought."
Warchief. The very title implied a belligerent position. Not a leader of people, but a leader of wars.
"I understand," Aang said humbly. "What about -"
"Deathwing is far more powerful, more dangerous and more corrupt. More than you can know. If your purpose is to help our world, it isn't by battling him. Use your magic to heal the land."
Cairne half-turned, facing north. Aang looked, and saw the Bluffs, but without tents, or firepits, or people. He saw further than a fire hawk, looking on over the green ranges, the mountains above, rising higher and higher, and the crown of a massive tree overlooking them all, as clearly as if it stood in front of him.
"If anyone can help you on this path," Cairne said, "It is Ysera, Dragon Aspect of Dreams, guardian of nature. She and the Ancients have returned at last - perhaps too late - and now dwell on Mount Hyjal, under the shade of Nordrassil, the World Tree. Ask the druids here to take you to her."
The vision began to fade, the darkness of true sleep creeping in at the edges.
Aang held on to those names, repeating them in his mind. Ysera... Hyjal... Nordrassil...
Cairne's voice receded into the mists. "May the Earthmother guide you, on whichever path you choose to take..."