Chapter 25 - Beacons

"That's an interesting move," Lieutenant Tin said with a frown, his bearded chin pinched between his finger and thumb. Hikoshu didn't think it was an interesting move at all, and so he dismissed the comment as a mental tactic.

Which was half the game of pai sho, a game they now played and had been playing for several hours, the portable board spread out on the table between them. Admittedly, Hikoshu could think of more productive things to be doing, such as leaving Gangzhou and getting on with his mission. But Tin had insisted they wait for his captain, who would be back at 'any moment,' and as Hikoshu was unlikely to talk a subordinate into letting Yan-lin go, he bided his time. So the hours stretched on while they played board games, Yan-lin observing them from a chair set between the two sides. She looked positively bored, her head resting on her folded arms, but she said nothing as she watched.

"You mean the wheel formation? I don't usually use feather tiles."

"They're called flame tiles here." The lieutenant's eyes didn't leave the board, one finger hesitantly sliding a lotus tile to a new spot. "You're trying to get me to open my house."

Actually, he was just putting tiles down, but he could see what the lieutenant meant. Kind of. In reality, Hikoshu wasn't playing a good game. Tin was just playing an extraordinarily bad one. So he shrugged and slid a feather tile out of formation. Which, of course, sent the lieutenant into a fit of introspection as he considered what this erratic move could possibly mean.

Yan-lin adjusted her arms on the table and resettled her head, half-lidded eyes following the pieces. "Just challenge the wheel with your red lotus right of center. His formation's weak, anyway." There was thinly-veiled frustration in her voice. Tin looked up in surprise, as did Hikoshu. It was the first words she'd spoken in an hour, and the first comment she'd made on the game. Glancing back at the board, Tin moved to do just that.

"He can't challenge right-center," Hikoshu interrupted, propping his chin in his hand, and Tin hesitated. "I've broken line. He'll set himself up for a pin."

"But he can escape the pin when you move your wheel tile to compensate for his east star progress."

Well…yes. Though Tin certainly couldn't recognize that, given how poorly he was playing. It surprised Hikoshu, instead, that Yan-lin had. That move was at least four steps ahead. Frowning, he focused on the board, his attention finally caught up by the game.

"If I maintain the pin and don't defend the east star, I'll still dominate the center house without losing any tiles," he countered, and Yan-lin raised her head an inch above her arms.

"If you don't defend the east star, he'll have five lotus tiles in six moves and seize half the board. You'll be two moves away from only dead corners, and three moves away from your first pass."

Hikoshu struggled not to gape. That was fifteen moves ahead. There was no way she could actually read all of that. "You're bluffing to force me to move my wheel tile."

Her expression was blank. "I'm not even playing." Then with a sigh, she turned away to gaze at the walls.

The garrison—or headquarters, or whatever the soldiers called this building—wasn't meant to be lived in. It functioned solely as a work space while the Omashu guard lived nearby. Yet for all the officiality of the building, there was nothing official about this particular room. Lieutenant Tin had first insisted on one of the more luxurious commandant's offices, but Yan-lin had in turn insisted on the barest space they had available. So now they played in a half-empty room on the third floor, sitting on three stools that had begun to rot from disuse. There was a fourth chair with a broken back tucked under a solitary window. Between the latticework, the sky looked dark.

Tin decided to believe Yan-lin over him and moved his lotus tile. Absently, Hikoshu responded with another one.

"Are you sure the captain will make it despite the snow?" Yan-lin asked, and Tin shrugged, his eyes glued to the board. She'd asked that question five times already, anyhow.

"If he doesn't, we can always set you up in this room. I'm sorry if it's not to your liking, Your Eminence." He glanced up in apology. Well, the other option was sleeping outside in the snow, so it sounded pretty good to Hikoshu. The task of proving he was the Avatar had been painless—quite literally, as by the time Hikoshu finished healing most of his and Yan-lin's wounds, half of the barracks had been on their knees in supplication. Then everything he'd done wrong, from resisting arrest to destroying a few homes, was completely forgiven. These were the kind of perks that came with being the holiest man in four countries, though it did nothing to relieve his guilty conscience. So he swore multiple times that he would make reparations. At some point.

"You should just leave." Yan-lin was speaking to Hikoshu, of course. It was yet another comment she'd made at least five times, and he barely looked at her while they played.

"I'm going to speak to the captain."

"You don't have time to waste here."

"Well, either I waste time here or I waste time there. At least here, I've got something to do."

Tin had no idea what they were talking about, but he didn't meddle, either. Just the occasional curious frown, which he gave them between his amazingly bad plays. Yan-lin made a disgusted noise in her throat and went back to her idle study of the empty room while Hikoshu went back to his game. Which was, to his amazement, playing out exactly as she said it would.

They sat in silence again, only broken by an unhappy grunt from Hikoshu when he lost his center position. Outside the window, a breeze pulled at the wooden slats, and the stone creaked with the encroaching night. Inside, the room was warm, comfortable despite the lack of a fire. It might have been the floors, which were made of a stone that seemed to channel heat, combined with the new clothes they'd been given. Out of pure convenience, Hikoshu now wore a soldier's uniform, complete with toasty boots and a plush green surcoat that he suspected once belonged to someone a little higher ranked than private.

Yan-lin hadn't faired quite as well; the lieutenant's wife, after hearing that Yan-lin was wearing robes meant for a man twice her size, had generously donated a silk set that was likely out of style by about ten years. The dress itself showed far too much cleavage for the frigid weather—which really was any cleavage at all—and Hikoshu was certain he wouldn't have been able to find her arms in those ridiculous sleeves even if he tried. But she'd accepted it graciously, and with a little effort, she now looked like a prim and proper courtly lady, which inspired in him an odd feeling of distaste.

At one point, after Hikoshu had called forfeit on the last game and agreed to play another, Yan-lin glanced sharply at the window. Rubbing her arms through the thick sleeves, she sat back on the stool. "Lieutenant Tin, do you think you could open the window? It's getting stuffy in here." Well, with the window open, it was going to get cold in there, but Hikoshu didn't complain. He was more tolerant of heat and 'stuffiness' than most people, so it had likely become uncomfortable without him noticing.

Arching his eyebrows, Tin nodded and got to his feet. He unlocked the lattice and pushed the slats open, which immediately filled the room with an icy chill. The wind, however, was devoid of snowflakes, and Tin nodded in satisfaction. "Now if he got past the Bird's Beak turnoff before dark, I imagine the captain will be here at any time." The lieutenant had been saying that for hours. But perhaps believing it this time—or perhaps a little cold from the now-open window—he turned back into the room and scooted in his stool. "I'll go check on dinner while I'm up." He clasped his hands and gave Hikoshu a deep bow, then ducked his head to Yan-lin. Hikoshu, suppressing a shiver, watched him go.

Yan-lin waited for the door to shut before she spoke. "You can leave now, you know."

"I can leave any time I wish." Suspecting the game was done for a while, Hikoshu began to clean off the board. "Until I can leave with you, though, I probably won't."

"Of all the stubborn-headed, impossibly dense—"

"Did you ask him to open the window just so I could escape? Because if that's the case, it's freezing and I want to close it." Yan-lin stared at him coldly, thin-lipped, and in resignation, Hikoshu got up to retrieve Tin's abandoned coat from the broken chair.

"You know how selfish this is," she said behind him. "You're the Avatar. People are dying, but you won't act because you're hung up on saving me."

The comment hit home, far too close to the truth, and Hikoshu's hands tightened on the coat as guilt and simultaneous anger flooded him. His primal reaction was to lash out at her for trying to hurt him, but better sense regained control, and he saw the attempt for what it was.

Shrugging on Tin's coat, Hikoshu turned to face her. His expression was stony. "Don't manipulate me. You can do it to the rest of the world, but you won't do it to me."

Hikoshu knew how scary he looked when he was mad. So he wasn't surprised at Yan-lin's sudden timidity, or how she shrank away as if afraid he might hurt her. It still stung, though, dispelling any remaining ire, and he slunk back to the table. "I know you don't understand. I can't say if I even understand it myself. But right now, you're the only thing I have, and for some reason, I suspect I'm all you have, too." He took a seat in Tin's former chair and clasped the part of her sleeve where he thought her hand might be. Taken aback, she almost pulled away. "For whatever reason, we're in this together. You can choose to be my friend or enemy, but it doesn't change the fact I can't make it without you. And I'm not going to stop fighting, no matter how many stones you feel you need to throw at me."

Another one of their silences ensued—the kind of silence where Yan-lin would study him, and he would have to try to guess what she was thinking. But this time, he didn't feel completely clueless. She refrained from sharing her thoughts, but in her eyes, a wall was finally breaking down.

Pain cracked through his head, turning his vision blurry, as something slammed into the back of his neck. Yan-lin gave a startled cry and jumped to her feet as Hikoshu groaned and fell forward, his torso collapsing against the table. Spots danced in front of his eyes and he held himself up on his hands, fighting to gather his wits, while Yan-lin threw herself behind him to shield him from the invisible assailant.

They had to get to cover. On the floor beside his feet lay the offending rock, and though no others had followed it, Hikoshu couldn't imagine the attack was finished. Grabbing at Yan-lin's arm, he tried to pull her under the table.

Yan-lin wrestled free as she breathily shouted, "Diem!"

The name didn't register at first, and so Hikoshu stared dumbly as Yan-lin deserted him to run to the window instead. Just beyond the wood slats, a shadowy figure hovered in the darkness. When she reached the frame, the figure stuck his head forward to reveal the jovial sandbender, his grin a contrite one.

"Sorry about that."

Hikoshu pressed a hand cautiously against the rock-inflicted wound. There wasn't any blood, but it would definitely bruise and swell. "You earthbended a rock at me?"

"What?" Diem blinked. "No, I just threw it. And you looked like a soldier. How was I supposed to know differently?" He glanced to Yan-lin, who was trying to pull him through the window. "Hold off on that, mud pie. I'm here to rescue you, so no point in coming inside."

"How did you know where to find us?" Yan-lin was beaming, which for some reason filled him with nausea. Or perhaps that was the headache.

"After the Avatar destroyed half of Inoue Square? Believe me, it wasn't much to track you down."

"I didn't destroy the plaza." Hikoshu finally managed to stand up, still grasping his neck, which throbbed heatedly under his fingers. "The soldiers did that. I only destroyed a couple of buildings."

Diem shrugged. "Same difference. So let's go before the soldiers get back."

"We can't. Yan-lin wants to—"

"Sure, help me outside." Yan-lin held out her hand, and much to Hikoshu's shock, Diem supported her as she climbed through the window. Speechless, he followed her to the pane, where in the darkness, he could see the silhouette of the earth pedestal Diem had bended. Yan-lin now crouched on it, situating herself as Diem reached out to Hikoshu.

Still stunned, he automatically accepted Diem's help, and only realized his mistake after Diem hauled him out onto the stone base. Scrambling, he bit back a yelp as he dropped onto his knees, and before he could beg Diem to take it easy on the descent, the stone pedestal shot downward.

When they hit the snow below, both Yan-lin and Diem were already on their feet, but Hikoshu remained kneeling, his hands clutching his thighs while he struggled to regain his bearings. Realizing that he was still on the ground, Diem jerked him to a stand then dusted the snow off of his coat.

"Rest when we've got a bridge behind us."

Streetlamps and moonlight, reflecting off the shallow layer of snow, helped to guide their way as they snuck through alleys and down wider roads. The headquarters was positioned on the outer edge of the town, not too far from the East Bridge, such that Diem had been able to conveniently smuggle the ostrich-horses close by. When they reached the two birds, tied to the hitching posts of a currently closed shop, Ben-Pao croaked out a greeting that seemed to split the quiet night.

"You even found our horstrich?" Yan-lin asked in delight, cradling the animal's head between her palms.

Diem grabbed hold of the saddle horn and hefted himself onto his own ostrich-horse's back. "Again, not much to it. Just did a quick run through Chinh's stable." Yan-lin spared him a look of warmth, then undid Ben-Pao's tie. Yet before she pulled herself into the saddle, she turned expectantly to Hikoshu.

He still stood several paces away. "We can't leave."

"We can if we hurry." Diem reined in his mount, urging the bird toward the bridge.

"I told the guardsmen we'd wait to speak to the captain."

The comment took Diem by surprise, and he looked to Yan-lin as if doubting he'd heard him right. Yan-lin, on the other hand, was staring at Hikoshu, her expression once more ambiguous. Quietly, she handed Diem her reins, then approached him.

"Why are you doing this?" she whispered, so low that he had to tilt his head just to hear.

"Why are you doing this?" he countered. "Why the sudden change of heart?" Yan-lin didn't look affronted by the question, or even surprised. In fact, she almost seemed to expect it.

"I don't know, Hikoshu. I wish I could tell you, but I can't. The nursemaids used to say that the Avatar could command obedience with just the sound of his voice. And maybe that's true. Or maybe I just want to believe you." She then took his hand, her thin, frozen fingers entwining through his. "We're in this together, right? Then let's leave together before I realize how crazy all of this sounds."

The fact that Gangzhou did not close its bridges at night was a blessing, and perhaps with the benefit of the soldier's uniform Hikoshu now wore, none of the town watch seemed to suspect them leaving the city. They flew through the late night snow drifts, and without any molestation plunged into the trees of Songsi Mountain. Immediately, the street lamps dimmed into a distant glow, and now the moon took over as their only light, its snowy reflection broken by pine branches and roots. Diem didn't slow their pace, intent to put as much distance between them and Gangzhou as he could before the guard caught on that their prisoners were missing.

At first, Hikoshu feared the pitfalls in the road, hidden under a day's worth of snowfall, but quickly he realized that the ostrich-horses were actually staying on top of the snow. The fleet-footed birds moved like air bison, no step heavy enough to break through the uppermost layer, and the shallow clawprints they left behind seemed out of proportion to their size.

"Can you cover our tracks?" Yan-lin said after a long, tense silence. She spoke in a loud whisper, her words almost wiped away by the stinging wind. Pushing away his former doubts, Hikoshu leaned back precariously, and the gait of the ostrich-horse nearly rocked him loose. With a half-terrified grip on Yan-lin's waist, he threw a heavy gust of wind behind them to blow the top layer of snow awry along the trail. When the powdery flurries finally settled, there would be no tracks left.

Again, they settled into silence. This stretched for several hours, as Diem focused on getting them safely up a dark trail and Hikoshu focused on not falling off while he hid their tracks. Because of that, time flew quickly, and they were halfway up the mountain when Diem felt it was safe enough to leave the trail. As there was no path, he had to dismount to lead his ostrich-horse through the tree thicket, forcing Yan-lin and Hikoshu to do the same. They walked for some time more before one side of the mountain fell away, revealing a panorama over an inky mountain lake. Ripples caught the moonlight, and sheltering pines bordered its narrow shore.

Diem soon broke away from this as well, and took them further into the woods, not stopping until the trees had become thick enough that no one would see them unless actually tripping over their sleeping bodies. Only then did he feel at liberty to hitch up the animals and remove their tack. Assigned the job of knocking snow from tree limbs to hide their steps, Hikoshu had lagged behind both him and Yan-lin. By the time he caught up, Diem had already dug out enough raw earth to bend them a shelter. Hikoshu obligingly hid it with more snow, which created a structure that resembled a misshapen hill to an untrained eye and a disfigured South Pole ice hut to his own. Unfortunately, the interior wasn't nearly as warm, especially since Hikoshu wasn't allowed to start a fire, and so they huddled deep in their coats—Yan-lin wearing the one Hikoshu had unintentionally borrowed from Tin—while listening closely for sounds of a hunt.

The wearying exhaustion of the battle earlier, combined with their frantic escape, was too much even for his anxiety, and soon Hikoshu started to drift off, his back propped against one of the stone walls, his arms half-numb. On the bare edge of consciousness, he finally heard Yan-lin speak, though it was hardly more than a whisper.

"Why did you come back?"

Diem's voice was just as soft. "I got to thinking, and I realized I couldn't leave you out here like this. What if you got in trouble? How could I live with myself?"

"I'm glad you did."

He gave a gentle 'humph' of agreement.

"What about your shop? The stable?" Yan-lin continued, and Hikoshu could almost feel Diem's shrug.

"I make these trips on occasion for good brass. True, Huan usually gets a little more forewarning, but he needs me bad enough to forgive this small omission."

"How long will you stay with us then?"

"Far as I can. You know what'll happen if the Wusun catch me back in the desert."

"I know," Yan-lin said quickly, almost guilty. "The tribes have long memories."

Diem chuckled. "And they don't forgive, not even if you're helping the Avatar save the world."

"Do you ever regret leaving the Si Wong?"

"You mean if I ever regret what I did? That'd be regretting who I am, and no, mud pie, I don't. I take pride in the person I became since I left the desert. I don't need my taousit, or any of the tiousatin, to tell me what I'm worth."

He must have inspired Yan-lin with an idea, for she slipped into a lilting, foreign language which Hikoshu couldn't have discerned even if he was less than half asleep. Diem seemed to understand, however, and laughed softly.

"Maybe someday. But not this time. You given it any thought yourself?"

"No," she said simply, a hint of finality in her voice. Diem hummed.

"His Majesty must want you both real bad."

"His Majesty doesn't like to lose."

"I'll bet. Now mind telling me why he's even after you? From the rumors I was hearing in town, I don't think it's got as much to do with the Avatar as you're letting on."

Yan-lin sighed. "Hikoshu and His Majesty were at odds with each other, so he decided to make a stand against the king by taking me away from Omashu."

A moment of quiet passed. "Hikoshu must care a lot about you."

"Hikoshu cares about causes. It's who he is—the Avatar and his strict moral compass."

Diem didn't answer, and a longer silence followed before he spoke again. "So how about after this?"

"After what?"

"Everything," he responded flatly. "When you're done here, and you got no more libraries to chase."

"I don't know," she mumbled. "I imagine I'll go back to Omashu."

"Could just stick with the Avatar. Might be exciting."

"No." There was a note of sadness in her voice. "I've been there before. And it ends badly."

Hikoshu had had his fill of the conversation. He filtered out the rest of it, and let his mind fall away. Sleep engulfed him as the same memories that were obviously troubling Yan-lin followed him across dreams.

xXxXx

The snow crunched loudly under her feet, but she ran too fast to notice. Running, so numb that the wind no longer stung her eyes. So numb, that she didn't feel the tears now frozen to her cheeks. Crying, because they were all gone, and she lived. Fire behind her, like a desperate, hungry beast, threw up sparks long after the screams had died, and now only sobs filled the night. Her sobs, accompanied by the howls of polar bear dogs.

Dogs who had her scent.

She plunged into the lake and the water enveloped her. It was like a bad dream, her coat trying to strangle her. Then, amidst the cold and the pain and the sadness and the fear, there was silence. Pure silence, her thoughts as pristine as the ice above her head. She floated, and the shadows caressed her. She held against the ice, hidden, and the wolf-men did not see how she breathed between their feet. Hold still. Hold still. They passed by, silent silhouettes. In front of her face, a slender feather drifted away from her hair, followed by a little dhole charm from around her neck. A wooden figurine her husband had carved, her daughter had intended to wear.

Her strength failed. She sank into grief, into the abyss.

Xx

The eye that peered into hers was not human. It held no emotion, not even curiosity, the worm-like body it belonged to writhing above her own. She didn't know where she was, but she sensed that she was no longer human, either. The haze surrounding them was the color of rancid oil, and thick, slimy foam floated around her head as she bobbed on a lake surface.

The creature understood. It understood, though it had no mouth with which to speak. This was a mistake—a fortuitous mistake—that they found each other, by the wood of the Spirit Oasis grove in her little dhole pendant. It knew what she wanted, even though she didn't know herself. It would give her what she wanted.

What she wanted more than rebirth.

Revenge.

All it asked for were the emotions now drowning her, and the bargain seemed trifling. She would give it her grief, because she no longer wanted it. She would give it her love, because she no longer needed it. In exchange for the power to act, she handed over the power to feel. She gave the creature her humanity.

The eye blinked. The spirit smiled. And she had no mouth with which to scream.

Xx

They deserved it. They all deserved it. Death by their own hands, though they didn't realize it was their own deaths they caused. The wolf-men murdered, and so it murdered them. It felt no remorse. It felt no revenge. It simply returned what was given. The wolf-men died by flames, by spear—however they dealt those final blows, those final blows were what they suffered in turn. It did not torture unless the wolf-man tortured. It did not spare lives unless the wolf-man did the same. It came for them, and they ran. But none escaped.

Then there was no more pain to answer. The wolf-men were gone, the centuries had passed. Yet it did not feel peace, because it could no longer feel. It waited, and it hunted, and it slept when there were no screams. But then the screams would start again, and it would emerge from the lake. From the snow.

It came for them, and they ran. But none escaped.

xXxXx

Hikoshu was underwater. The realization left him stupefied, such that he believed for several moments that he was still only dreaming, entombed once again in the tormented spirit's lake-scene nightmare. The frigid water robbed him of sensation, deafening sound, and everything was so eerily black that he had no context to differentiate between reality and fantasy. Only when his throat clenched in pain, reflexively making him inhale, did he realize this was no longer a dream.

Choking on water, Hikoshu stuck his hands out for something solid and encountered resistance. He pushed hard against it and felt it fight back. Immediately his thoughts flew to the spirit. An almost feral panic set in, lending strength to his numb arms as he grappled with the other creature. Yet all of his swings fell wide of their mark, as blind as he was, and with the turbulence kicked up in his chaotic defense, he quickly lost his opponent in the black. The struggle instead exhausted his remaining reserves, and his desperation turned toward escape from the water rather than from his captor.

A flash of blue light interrupted him, illuminating faint motes floating several inches from his face. Startled, Hikoshu momentarily forgot his original goal, his eyes drawn downward to the source of light as it flashed once more. Far below him, in the murky abyss, a tube-shaped plant with feathered leaves lit up in a blaze of silvery blue, only to burn out a moment later. Yet before the darkness settled, a similar plant nearby came alive with the same brilliant color.

Like frenzied lightning, the strange plants continued to give bursts of light along the lake bed as Hikoshu now swiveled to face his opponent. She had floated several feet away from him, her arms spread out to either side, half-loose sleeves fanning beside her body. Her hair formed a plume around her face, which—highlighted in the brief flashes—was set in perfect stillness. She looked like a spirit, existing in this world only for the moments that the plants sparked into life, disappearing with the darkness whenever the light ceased. And had Hikoshu been any less experienced with spirits, he was certain the sight would have scared him enough to drown him. But while terror did threaten to draw the Avatar State somewhere toward the edge of his mind, Hikoshu was rational enough to recognize the woman was no spirit.

He floundered the last few feet toward Yan-lin and pulled her into his arms. She moved easily, offering no resistance. Her entire body was limp. Hugging her to him, Hikoshu spun the water around them, his bending made awkward by his dwindling strength and increasing numbness, his limbs unable to fight the resistance of the very water he was manipulating. Yet his desperation made up for what his muscles lacked, and the waterspout that now surrounded them lifted them both out of the lake.

Below them, the lake continued to light up with occasional bursts of blue as they sped over the surface, carried by a cyclone of water. Hikoshu, however, only saw the shore. The snow-laced pine trees that lined it raced toward them, and he realized belatedly that they were moving too fast. The waterspout disintegrated as it hit the bank and slammed them both against the beach. Hurting from the rough landing, Hikoshu dragged Yan-lin's lifeless body a foot from the receding water, then slung her onto her back.

She was still unconscious, her mouth slightly agape, her hair tangling in twigs and shoreline debris. For some reason she was missing her coat, making her look even punier in the silly silk attire. Hikoshu held his hand still above her mouth, despite the strong shivers that racked him, and pulled the water from her lungs. The sensation roused her, making her gag, and she turned on her side to choke up more water.

"Take deep breaths," Hikoshu said, patting her back hard. His voice sounded muffled from the lake water clogging his ears, and his throat felt scratchy.

Yan-lin gasped into the dirt, her fingers gouging furrows near her face. "So cold," she whispered harshly. Her shoulders trembled both from the effort of coughing and the exposure. Dazed, Hikoshu straightened and looked out over the lake. It still lit up in bursts of frenzied blue, but the plants were starting to settle down. The remaining light disoriented him, giving an otherworldly quality to the forest that surrounded them. Above the trees loomed the mountain, outlined by stars. They were by the lake he'd glimpsed while making camp, though that did nothing to elaborate on why.

"Let's get back to the shelter." The cold would kill them if they didn't; already, his hair was freezing to the back of his neck. Hikoshu's innate ability to firebend was gone, stolen by the lake and leaving him with only two elements at his disposal. He used one of these now, bending the water from their sodden clothes and causing Yan-lin to shudder in pain as it sapped her of her remaining heat. He then bundled her in his soldier's surcoat and drew her arm across his shoulders. "What happened to your over-robe?"

"Dropped it so I could swim better." Yan-lin stuttered over the words, her free hand clutching the surcoat protectively to her breast. In the moonlight she looked washed out, with her lips drained of color and her eyes mere shadows. Hikoshu suspected that was only partly a trick of the lighting. "You were in the water."

"You can't swim."

Yan-lin didn't respond, and they started along the shore in silence, Hikoshu half-carrying her on his shoulder as he tried to find whatever trail had led them both here. Unfortunately, the dense woods just beyond the beach had protected most of the underbrush from snowfall as well as from the moon, such that he could barely see the detritus. Meanwhile, the thin layer of wool that guarded him from the wretched night no longer sufficed, and he had to work his knuckles to keep his grip on Yan-lin from giving. So cold were his feet, Hikoshu didn't even notice he was missing a boot until his toes caught on a rock and nearly sent them both face forward onto the pebbled bank.

Trying to ignore the pain, Hikoshu forced his mind toward a meditative state of singular focus. He kept the mountain peak in front of them, as he knew that somewhere on that black hillside was their camp. At the very least, he could walk toward that, even if he never found their original path.

"Why were you in the lake?" Yan-lin asked quietly after some time had passed. She'd struggled to keep up with him, her feet sometimes catching when she couldn't lift them over driftwood, and her weight had gradually shifted more onto him. Shaking off his self-imposed meditation, Hikoshu glanced at her and readjusted his hold on her arm and waist.

"I was hoping you could tell me."

"You weren't there when I woke up. Just a hole in the wall. I followed your footsteps to the lake." That was good; it meant there was a trail to find, and Hikoshu pressed onward.

"You were glowing in the water," she added after another pause, her hoarse voice almost a whisper. "I hate it when you glow."

Again Hikoshu looked at her askance, and noticed that her gaze was directed out on the lake. The strange water plants had calmed, and like a dying thunderstorm, only infrequent flashes of light pulsed from the center. But Yan-lin hardly seemed aware of that; her eyelids had drooped lower. Pausing, he hefted her entirely into his arms and almost fell backwards in the process. The cold had soaked through his knees, and he'd very nearly lost his sense of balance. Yan-lin's head fell to his shoulder, her body sagging against him.

"Recently I've been having dreams." Hikoshu didn't think she was listening, but he had to talk. The silence was too maddening, too morbid. "Nightmares. The spirit…whoever it is that's attacking the Water Tribes…I think her presence affects me on some level. Like an imbalance. I guess that's what Avatars are supposed to detect, right?" No answer. "When I dream, I keep reliving a part of her past, where she's drowning in a lake. The dream itself never changes, except this time. She's never touched me physically before. Never tried to drown me with her."

Yan-lin didn't respond, her hand resting on his chest as if she were simply feeling his voice. Hikoshu continued as he searched the underbrush. "Either she meant to do it, or she inadvertently dragged me into her nightmare. If it's the latter, then she must be getting more powerful. If it's the former, then she must be getting more desperate." With a rush of relief, he found the trail, their faint footsteps mixing mud and snow. The disturbed litter traced the outline of his boots emerging from the woods, and over them were Yan-lin's smaller steps. They were relatively untouched, but so inconspicuous that he wondered if some heightened Avatar-sense had helped him find them, rather than his own shrewdness. "I might need you to stand on your own, or these roots could possibly kill us both. Yan-lin?"

Again, she didn't answer, and this time Hikoshu was worried enough to set her down against a tree. Her head dropped to her chest, her arms once more limp. In growing anxiety, Hikoshu slapped her cheeks.

"Wake up. Stay with me."

She lifted her head just enough to give him a miserable frown from behind a curtain of hair. "I'm too tired."

"You can't go to sleep. Listen, I found the trail. If we get back to the camp, I can maybe light a fire."

"Light a fire now."

"I can't firebend. I'm not warm enough." The exposed parts of his hands and face had long ago stopped hurting, raising concern for frostbite. He imagined Yan-lin had fared no better, though he couldn't tell in the dark. "You're going to have to walk."

She shook her head, causing it to roll far too freely toward the tree, and Hikoshu seized her chin. "Come on, look at me. You know better than to sleep; you're too smart for that." Yan-lin barely raised her eyes to meet his, and though that look of cool calculation still lurked below the surface, it was significantly dulled. Hikoshu's pulse quickened, and his breaths became ragged, misty streaks of white. "Don't do this to me, Yan-lin. Not now. You've fought a lot worse than the cold, so don't let this be the thing that beats you. If you have some energy left, I need you to f—" His words were muffled as Yan-lin suddenly leaned forward to kiss him.

For a terrifying moment, he thought it was a kiss goodbye, and he clutched her shoulder to stop her. But she didn't break away, her delicate, frozen lips tenderly pressed against his. The gesture was strange, completely inappropriate for the situation, and yet nothing about it felt inappropriate. It almost felt natural, as if they could share an unspoken connection based solely on touches. There was a simple honesty in Yan-lin's kiss that entranced him, so different was it from the woman he'd come to hate. Without even realizing what he was doing, Hikoshu swayed into the kiss.

Only when his fingers brushed her neck and registered nothing did the memory of the winter night break on their interlude. Blinking, Hikoshu pulled back sharply. "Why did you do that?" Yan-lin didn't answer, her eyes locked onto his, glinting with a certain cunning that had been painfully absent just moments before. Her skin was still bloodless, her jaw quaking over shallow breaths, but the tilt of her head spoke of some hidden reserve that she'd tapped. A reserve that she now summoned as she pulled him into yet another kiss.

This time, however, there was no tenderness or quiet connection. Instead, Yan-lin threw all of her remaining strength into the ardent embrace, deepening the kiss as she drew her arms around his neck. Surprised, Hikoshu didn't resist, and quickly he was swept away in a surge of spontaneous reaction, instinct overriding reason. He returned the kiss with equal fervor, so caught up in the moment that he wasn't sure whether she slipped into his lap or he had drawn her there. Yan-lin fit snuggly anyway, her body trembling gently against his, possibly from the cold. He couldn't linger on the idea, her lips chasing away all but the simplest thoughts.

Though the cold had supposedly robbed him of sensation, every place she touched came alive. Her fingers swept with agonizing slowness across his shoulder blades, and Hikoshu could feel her heart against his chest, thudding in time to the beats he felt in her neck. Holding her was like holding a bonfire, its flames creeping across his skin as she shifted in his lap.

After moments—or even years to his addled mind—Yan-lin finally broke the kiss so that she could take a few shuddering breaths, her nose still pressed against his. Then, much to his confusion, she murmured headily, "You're warm enough now."

He was more than warm, actually; he was sweating. In mild alarm, Hikoshu drew back. Mere inches away, Yan-lin returned his gaze, her skin still a sickly white but her eyes filled with vivacity, as if the kiss had replenished her mentally even as her physical strength failed. With his arms still wrapped around her, he could feel her body shaking.

"You did that on purpose," Hikoshu accused, and her mouth twitched toward a confirming grin. But then her expression seemed to crumple, her head falling back weakly. Hikoshu caught her with a hand to her neck. "Yan-lin? Hold on." He pushed back the surcoat enough to press his other hand to her half-exposed breast, just below her collarbone. Then, cradling her close, he warmed her blood. The effect was almost immediate, color flooding her cheeks as her breathing sped up. Under his hand, her heart fluttered rapidly.

Yet several more moments passed before she could open her eyes and feebly grab his hand, uttering, "Stop." Hikoshu obliged and ceased bending, though he continued to hold her weight in his other arm. Yan-lin needed time to recover, and she did so slowly, her gaze searching the invisible canopy above them as she regained her bearings.

"I didn't realize you could do that," she finally said, the flush of her cheeks now fading. "Bend a person warm."

"I might be the only one who can." The skill required an inherent knowledge of firebending and waterbending. He'd tried it once before in the south, when a village boy had become lost in the snow drifts. Only Natquik had noticed he wasn't merely water-healing the boy's frostbite. And Natquik had promptly made him promise not to tell anyone what he'd done. "How did you think of that? Kissing me?"

Now that she felt more alert, Yan-lin used his shoulder to straighten from his arm. "You said you weren't warm enough. And kissing you seemed to warm you up fairly well the last time." At Hikoshu's blank look, she sighed. "In the stable?"

"I remember the stable," Hikoshu retorted, frowning. "But I've never been told that happens when I kiss someone." Mayami certainly hadn't said anything. In response, Yan-lin gave him one of her coy smirks, her eyes narrowing.

"Maybe then you only heat up when you're kissing me."

Hikoshu started to protest such a possibility but hesitated, the quip hanging on his lips as he considered the thought at length. Yan-lin had her wits about her again, and she quickly read into the ensuing silence. The humor slipped from her face, revealing an implicit question that had been hiding in her eyes. Which she now expressed freely, without even realizing she was asking the same thing as he.

"You're, ah…" Hikoshu started awkwardly, glancing away from her face only to find himself staring at her half-hidden cleavage. He quickly looked up again. "You're still in my lap."

"You're still holding me," she answered.

"I was trying to keep you warm."

"There are other ways we could keep warm."

The response almost left Hikoshu speechless. "You can't be suggesting…"

"I was actually suggesting we get up and walk." Yan-lin's expression was flat. "Don't think because of the way you kiss that I'm now all swamp-sick and silly over—"

"Believe me, I don't think for a moment that you're so-called 'swamp-sick and'—wait, what was that about the way I kiss?"

Yan-lin made a disgusted sound in her throat and pushed against his chest. "Hikoshu, this is not the time to flirt."

"What? How could you possibly think that I'm flirting?"

"Because you'd rather talk about you and me sleeping together—and sneak glances at my breasts—than talk about why a spirit decided to drag you into the middle of a lake, or even how we're going to get back to camp."

Hikoshu stared at her, dumbfounded. "You really are a politician."

"And you're still holding me."

In response, Hikoshu dropped his arm away. Yan-lin, however, was well enough recovered at that point to hold herself up, though she kept one hand tightly on his shoulder, belying a certain level of weakness. She didn't move out of his lap, either.

"Since you're obviously feeling much better," Hikoshu grumbled, "maybe I should take my coat back. Before I lose the sensation in my arms again." It was a bluff; he doubted he could even become cold while still holding Yan-lin.

She ignored both his request and his bluff, instead reaching curiously to draw his pendant from under the lapels of his robes. "What's this?" she murmured.

"Just a talisman." The bone-carved dhole glinted in the moonlight, a pale yellow between her darker fingers. The sight triggered a cascade of memories, but not his. Without thinking, he took it from her. "The spirit had one of these, too, actually. In my vision. But it was made of wood, not bone."

"You mean while you were in the lake?"

Hikoshu nodded, still examining the well-worn figurine. The masked dhole sat on its haunches, front paws hanging loosely in front of its chest, ears pricked as if alert. Part of its muzzle had been chipped off in the past, but the damage was hard to discern unless one looked closely. "It's a masked dhole—a sacred animal in the Water Tribes. They live in clans, just like the tribesmen." Baffled, he lit a fire in one palm so that he could see it better. But there was nothing special about the talisman—no indication of some hidden importance. "It has a lot of stories associated with it. So it also has a lot of names. One is uajaqpuq aajuiliqtuq qiniqpajanga ammalu: 'he who travels in spite of death.' They're one of the few species who'll actively hunt in winter."

"That's interesting," Yan-lin said softly, her eyes trained on the pendant. Then she glanced up at him with a look of insolent glee. "But completely wrong."

Hikoshu was too surprised to be offended. "And how's that?"

"You're mistranslating. Uajaqpuq aajuiliqtuq qiniqpajanga ammalu means'he who travels in search of death.' Not in spite of it." Again, Yan-lin took the talisman from him and held it up, the firelight creating haunting reflections in her eyes. "When a member of their clan is attacked, the dholes band together. They track down the perpetrator without remorse, without ever tiring. Then, when they find the guilty party—sometimes days later—they slaughter it." She let her story chill in the air, which even the fire cradled in his palm couldn't touch. "Masked dholes are loyal to the point of violence. And at one time, the Water Tribes were, too."

"How do you know all of this anyway?"

"I lived in the North Pole for a few months when I was young." The revelation made him feel even more chagrined about his poor attempts to learn the language. "But what's so important about a masked dhole? Why would the spirit have a talisman like yours?"

He needed a moment to nurse his wounded pride. "I don't know. Dhole talismans are pretty common. Shamans use them to channel guardian spirits, and laypeople use them to protect children. The only thing special about hers was the fact it was made of wood from the Spirit Oasis."

"Spirit Oasis?" Yan-lin looked shocked. "That's sacred ground."

"Yes, so the name implies." Hikoshu tried not to sound dry. Yan-lin caught it anyway and gave him a perturbed frown. "I think it's part of the reason why she became what she is."

"And what is she?"

"A killer."

The declaration left Yan-lin at a loss for words; she shivered and unconsciously leaned toward him, either craving warmth or protection. "I don't like spirits, Hikoshu."

"That makes two of us. If what you say is true about the masked dhole—if they really do kill without remorse—then maybe that's what it means. Maybe this spirit is avenging someone."

"But you also said it's a protection charm. So maybe the spirit is protecting someone."

"Maybe it's doing both."

Yan-lin watched him, but in the light of his fire, she seemed to be looking through him instead. As if intrigued by a puzzle whose pieces she now held. "Who would it be protecting then?"

"The southern tribesmen suspected that a Shaman had called on the spirit. Perhaps it's protecting him?"

"And killing people at his direction, too?"

"I'm not sure if this spirit acts by direction," Hikoshu said. "Or at least it didn't feel like that. She wasn't compelled by someone. Rather, it felt like the victims were compelling her to punish them."

"Like justice?"

"Like retribution."

Yan-lin was silent for a moment. "So it's going to keep on killing, until it runs out of people to kill."

"This still doesn't answer who it kills, or why."

"And us? Are we safe?"

Hikoshu shook his head. "The Shamans of my village came to the conclusion it was only attacking older men of the Northern Water Tribe, which should mean that no one else is being targeted. But then the spirit tried to drown me, so now I'm not sure."

"Did it?" Yan-lin screwed her eyebrows together in thought. "You woke in time to save both of us. Maybe it was just a message."

He had to fight not to scoff. "What kind of message can near-drowning possibly be?"

"You said Avatars can detect imbalances. Maybe it was some sort of spiritual fishing float—a beacon to warn you of the spirit's intentions."

"And it had to drag me into a lake to do that?"

Yan-lin shrugged. "Even a good fishing float has to go under for you to know the fish are biting."

Though he couldn't be sure how true the analogy was, Hikoshu still found himself amazed. She had come up with it so quickly that he didn't even have an answer. All he could do was stare. "Yan-lin, you're something else." And she was. The entirety of the evening struck him then, as well as a deluge of realizations. How she'd jumped into a lake to save him, despite being unable to swim. How she'd stumbled on a plan to save them both, despite being half-unconscious. Yan-lin certainly had her imperfections, but there was also something else lurking around those imperfect edges.

Unaware of his thoughts, she beamed in response to his compliment and tucked the dhole pendant back under his robe. "Then at least I'm something, right?" She grinned at her joke, though the smile quickly faded into uncertainty as she caught his expression.

Hikoshu hadn't yet looked away when the forest came alive with panicked birds. Behind Yan-lin's head, the underbrush crackled as something large crashed through the trees, and a fire twice the size of his own flame flashed from between the trunks. Swiftly, Hikoshu set his arm around Yan-lin's shoulders and pulled her to the ground, drawing a gasp from her. The fire in his palm went out in the meantime, and now only the encroacher's light fell on them as Hikoshu pushed his weight onto his toes, one hand planted by Yan-lin's head.

The defensive stance was unnecessary; Diem burst through the forest moments later, holding a torch. The sight of Hikoshu hovering over Yan-lin brought the sandbender up short, and he gazed at them in wide-eyed disbelief, his chest heaving. "What are you two doing?"

"We were trying to find our way back to the campsite," Hikoshu said as Yan-lin crawled out from under him.

"Funny, that's not what it looks like you were doing. Which one of you set off the dengshui plants?" He waved his torch toward the shore behind them, where the night had once more become a frozen, moonlit scene rendered black by the fire. "Now any man or guard on this side of the mountain knows someone's at that lake."

"Trust me, it wasn't intentional. Did you see anyone on your way here?" Hikoshu pushed himself up, remembering as soon as he got to his feet that he was still missing a boot.

Diem shook his head. "Just your footprints. But that's not to say they're not right behind me now. Yan-lin, where's your coat?"

"Don't know," she answered curtly, still on her knees. She didn't seem to care about Diem's urgency, as she fumbled under the embroidered gold sash of her robes and pulled free her dagger. She used this to shear the unwieldy sleeve of her other arm at the elbow, layers of dirtied silk pooling on the ground.

"Well, we don't have time to find it, so I guess you'll just have to continue wearing Hikoshu's." There was accusation in his voice.

Hikoshu would have protested the implication, but Yan-lin suddenly leaned forward to seize his knee, nearly taking his balance with it. Grunting a complaint, he wavered on one foot, then dropped himself onto the leaf litter in front of her. "What are you doing?"

"You have no shoe and we have to hurry." Yan-lin was all pragmatism and efficiency once more, her hands flying over his bare foot as she rolled the severed silk around it. Above them, Diem groaned.

"Seriously?"

Hikoshu caught her wrist just as she finished binding the makeshift wrap. "Don't take off any more clothing. If you get cold, it's only going to slow us down more."

"Well, I guess if I get cold again, you can always warm me back up." She threw him a smirk, then slid to her feet. "How close are the horstriches?"

"Does it matter?" Diem swung his torch toward the trees, as if it might catch hidden enemies. "We're already running by the sand glass." He didn't bother to explain the enigmatic expression, nor did he have to. They all understood what it meant.

Hikoshu stood up and gingerly put weight on the bandaged foot. It was once more numb, and the fabric would likely hinder both bending and movement with that limb, but at least it'd protect him from the snow. "I think this might just work."

"Then let's move fast." Diem was heading back into the trees, not waiting to see if they'd follow. "We're on the brink of dawn. Another hour, and we won't have any darkness to hide by."

As they plunged back into the forest, once more focused solely on escape, Hikoshu snatched a quick, last glance over his shoulder. Hints of blue just above the tree canopies indicated that dawn was indeed close by, but below it, the lake was still as thick and black as coal slurry. Quietly, a lone plant lit the lake with a final flash of silver, then everything was dark. Hikoshu eyed it a moment longer before he turned away to follow.

A/N: Next chapter is back to Natquik and Miyo, and should be published by next week.