She spent so much time over the next few weeks searching for Jet in every crowd she wandered through that Smellerbee almost didn't realize it when she saw another familiar face.
In fact, she walked past him, eyes scanning for a tall boy with shaggy hair and hooked swords, and it wasn't until she was nearly around the corner that she realized why the young man by the fruit stand even caught her eye. Chihiro.
Smellerbee turned around so suddenly a woman behind her clutching an arm full of groceries nearly dropped her load and bumped into a cart piled high with cabbages as she tried to right herself again. Smellerbee didn't see what happened next, though, because she had taken off, after the figure she could see disappearing into the crowd ahead of her.
"Chihiro!" she choked out, the word nearly sticking in her throat. She hadn't seen him for months, never thought she'd see him again, and she could barely believe her eyes.
Chihiro turned down a corner and Smellerbee followed, gaining on him with every breathless step, but when she made it around the corner, she couldn't see him.
Panic-striken, she started screaming for him.
"Chihiro? CHIHIRO! IT'S ME! WHERE ARE YOU? CHIHIRO!"
She was standing in the middle of the street, screaming like a madwoman, and the crowd was giving her a wide berth. She was even vaguely aware of the patrons of shops and inhabitants of apartments coming to the windows to see what the ruckus was about. Smellerbee flet her heart thundering and heard her blood rushing in her ears as her eyes combed the crowd for him, and then she saw him up ahead, still moving along, not seeming to hear her.
"Hey! Chihiro! Wait!"
She bolted through the crowd now, knocking people aside without noticing, barreling through until she reached him.
"Chihiro!" she grabbed him and turned him so she could look at his face, drink him in, search for every precious detail of her brother's face that she might have forgotten.
"Get off me!" a startled and completely unfamiliar voice said.
It wasn't him.
Smellerbee was stunned and stared at the man, as if she could turn him into her brother by sheer force of will. He did look a lot like Chihiro. I'm not completely crazy, Smellerbee thought, her eyes still fixed on the man who was starting at her in alarm and confusing, seeming not to want to make any sudden movements in front of her lest she grab him again. No, his eyes were too fair and his note too large and something rather harsh in the set of his mouth. It wasn't him.
"I – I'm sorry," Smellerbee stammered. "I… I thought you were someone else." The man pulled himself free and started hurrying away, glancing back at her every few paces as though she might start chasing him again, but Smellerbee was rooted to her spot, it seemed, until the shock wore off.
When she was able to move again, she wandered slowly back through the streets, her mind and heart both racing. Why, though? she asked herself. It wasn't him. Why do you care?
Her mind seemed to be stuck in a loop.
It wasn't him.
But it could have been.
But it wasn't.
But it could have been!
She was not concerned with the man himself; he was not her brother, she knew that much. But what if, somehow, her brother had escaped and gone to Ba Sing Se, just as she had? What about her mother, her father, her sister? What if her family had not stayed where she'd left them – in the clutches of the Fire Nation? What if they, too, had escaped any corner they'd been backed into? There were refugees pouring in every day. Why not them, too?
It took Smellerbee longer than usual to get home – she'd told Lonshot she was going to look for Jet for a bit, which was true – but the sun was setting and she usually tried to be back before it did. When she walked in, Longshot was waiting for her, food ready. He put a plate in her hands and she could see he had been anxious in her absence.
"I didn't see him," Smellerbee said defeatedly, sitting down in their usual spot by the window. "But…" she paused, trying to find the right words. "I saw someone else."
Longshot looked up at her sharply.
"Not the Dai Li or anything like that," she said. "I saw… or I thought I saw… my brother."
What?
"Yeah, I saw this guy who looked exactly like Chihiro and I kind of chased him through the streets… but it wasn't him… I was so sure it was for a second, though…" she trailed off, staring out the window at the flickering lights of Ba Sing Se. Any one of them could be him, she thought.
What are you thinking? Longshot reached out and tapped her shoulder, bringing her back to herself.
"What if he made it here to the city? Or my mother? Or my father or sister? I don't know where they are. Why couldn't they be here?"
Longshot gave a slow shrug.
"I know it's not likely," Smellerbee sighed. "It was just nice to think it was possible for a little while," she added, her voice low. "Don't you ever wonder if…" she trailed off. She still didn't know exactly what had happened to Longshot. Neither had Jet. The boy was an island unto himself. "If someone from your past might be here?"
Longshot shook his head and stared out the window. No, I don't.
"Did no one survive?" Smellerbee asked quietly. She saw tears welling at the edge of Longshot's dark eyes. She didn't want to force him, but she remembered how it felt to keep the secret of who she was. Surely Longshot must feel that same burden?
Longshot shook his head. His eyes closed and she could see tears spill over his cheeks.
"Longshot, there was nothing you could do," Smellerbee said, reaching out and putting a tentative hand on his shoulder. "You can't… I don't know… you can't put out fire with a bow and arrow."
Longshot pulled sharply away from her and glared at her.
That's not it.
"Longshot?"
He sprang up from the floor and grabbed his quiver of arrows and threw it down in front of her.
"What?"
She didn't understand. Longshot pulled all of the arrows out, then turned the quiver upside down. From out of its depths, Smellerbee heard something slide out and clatter to the ground. Before her lay a broken arrow, the head and a few inches of the shaft splintered from the feathered end. The head had a dark and unmistakable stain on it.
"Longshot… whose blood is that?" Smellerbee asked, her voice shaking. She looked up at Longshot, who was standing before her, tears streaming down his face silently. He dropped to his knees in font of her and pulled his collar down, revealing the patch of skin beneath it.
It was a scar. A scar she'd seen before but never thought much of. They all had scars like these; old battle wounds and marks of childhood memories. It was a small, rough circle with lines like the sun's rays blossoming from it, just under Longshot's throat, nestled at the top of his sternum.
"Is it yours?" Smellerbee asked. Longshot nodded and seemed to crumple before her, and before she realized he was grabbing the arrow and putting it in her hand. She looked more closely at it.
And then, with horror, she recognized it.
She knew who'd shot it.
