Part 2

One year later…

In a small desert town deep within the former Earth Kingdom, a scorpion lazed its way across the dirt path on Main Street. The air was hot and dry, even for autumn when the sun would blaze a cloudless heat in the day and the night would cool down to freezing.

The boardwalk on Main was lined with shanty buildings leading toward the train station, the town's lifeline back to wider civilization save for the long dirt road wending hundreds of miles around and through other such towns. The region was called Isaan, and the town was named after it.

But still, hundreds of years after its settlement, Isaan had yet to modernize, yet to attract much more than fur trappers and miners or outlaws and other anonymous travelers passing through. And in that way, it became known for its transient population, providing bars and brothels and boarding. The locals often longed for a way out or were too afraid, too settled in their desert isolation to know anything different.

Three burly men wearing assorted shades of green rode through Main Street on camelelephants, passing by the scorpion who raised its pointed tail in defense as dust kicked up behind them. They tied their camelelephants up in front of a saloon and followed the leader with his cocksure gait behind the swinging double doors.

Inside the saloon people went about their business at this table or that, playing Pai Sho here or card games there. The smell of cigar smoke and stale fire whiskey filled the room, and the men took a seat at the bar, their backs facing a dark corner where a mysterious patron had sat quietly for hours in the shadows, sipping cup after cup of hot leaf juice.

A barmaid making her rounds approached.

"Refill stranger, or can I get you something a little stronger?"

The stranger did not look up, her face obscured by her wide-brimmed hat and most of her body buried in the shadows. She was watching the men at the bar.

"Fine. I'll take a dark ale," the stranger husked in a sultry voice.

The barmaid nodded and collected the empty tea cup. Soon, she came back around with a deep brown ale. She noticed the stranger's steady gaze on the men at the bar and said:

"Those guys over there – they're thugs if you ask me."

"Oh?" This admission piqued the stranger's interest, and she titled her hat back to take a look at the gal. A young and comely woman with doe-like hazel eyes nodded. The stranger continued, "Well, I didn't ask, but now I'm even more curious. So please, do tell."

"They come once every coupla weeks – to collect what they call tithings. Say it's for protection, yadda yadda yadda, you know the drill. Anyway, it's a little more serious because they work for a warlord-type in this area. While some cities, especially the modern ones, transitioned easily to democracy after the fall of the Earth Empire, other places – forgotten ones like this – have become pockets of territories ruled by – "

"I see," the stranger interrupted, not needing to hear more. She already knew about the political situation and could likewise smell henchman a mile away. Deciding it wasn't worth it, she moved on from the topic. "How much do I owe you?" she said.

The bar maid smiled and shook her head.

"It's on the house."

"Thank you. Cheers," the stranger, relieved because she was broke, lifted the glass and smiled back before taking a swig of the warm, bitter ale.

The stranger noticed the barmaid's gaze lingering on her for longer than she felt comfortable, and she tilted the brim of her hat farther down and went about watching the men.

Blustering at the bar, the leader, a head shorter than the other two but with a mouth twice as wise, demanded a shot of something strong to give him and his posse a jolt – on the house of course.

The bartender could only nod and grit through his teeth "Coming right up."

"And while we're drinking it, I want you to get your tithings ready because we're here to collect – or else," the leader said, bending clumps of dirt in the air menacingly, his goons following suit.

"You think just because you're a bender you can tell me what to do!" The bartender said, shaking his finger at the leader, who reciprocated by flinging a small stone at the bartender's temple as a warning.

"No, I tell you what to do because it's for your own protection, but the bending sure helps," the leader said.

A laugh sounded from the corner of the room and the men turned around to see the mysterious stranger sitting there.

"Something funny?" Goon Number One said?

"I didn't say anything," the stranger said.

But she had laughed. It caught her by surprise, listening to the men boasting about their bending as they lifted pieces of dirt with stances flimsier than a house of cards. Of course now the thugs were making a ruckus and had disturbed her quiet contemplation, and she found herself amused by the whole thing.

"Good. You better mind your own business before I teach you a little sumthin too," the leader said in a nasally voice, cupping his hand over his junk and gesturing toward her.

To the stranger's eyes, he resembled a disloyal weasel rat, the kind that she used to put down on the regular, but she had changed – for better or worse – and so merely replied "Fair enough."

The bartender attempted to break the tension and avoid disturbing the other saloon patrons.

"Your tithings," he said, plopping a bag at the bar in front of the men. The leader swiped the bag, keeping a watchful eye on the stranger in the corner, that is, until the barmaid walked by collecting a round of empty glasses.

"Say, sweetheart," the leader said with a toothy grin, grabbing her by the arm, "is this a one stop shop, or do I still gotta go to the brothel to get my kicks?"

The barmaid yanked her arm back. "One: I ain't your sweetheart. Two…"

"Well, what's the rest?" Goon Number Two said after a long pause.

"Now, now," the bartender chimed in. Let's calm down here. "The brothel is across the way. So if you please take what you came for and –"

"Beat it," the barmaid said.

"Not until you tell us what two is darlin'" the posse leader said, his eyes traveling the length of her.

The creepy way he said it and his shameless gaze caused her to visibly cringe, and she was out of ideas.

"Two seconds," the stranger's voice sounded from where she sat.

Annoyed by yet another interruption, the leader slammed his hand down at the bar and grabbed his drink, bringing it to his lips and facing the stranger. Before he took a sip, he said "Well then, partner, it looks like I'm gonna show you after all. This saloon – it ain't big enough for you, so -"

"You mistake me. I meant you have two seconds to take your "tithings" and get out… or else I'll teach you something. The hard way."

He chuckled foolheartedly and lifted the glass up to his lips, but it was abruptly smashed out of his hand by a cracking whip.

"Get her!" He cried to his goons after recovering from the shock of it.

The goons bent clumps of dirt and sand into a solid mass, flinging it toward the woman. She cracked her whip at the clump, dissipating the dirt and standing up in one swift motion. She wore a cloak which she shrugged off to reveal a lean muscular figure in all black, whip-lasso combination in hand.

"Please! Take this outside!" The bartender yelled. Brawls and showdowns were common here, so he was well versed in coaxing people out.

They all walked out into the middle of Main and faced off about thirty paces apart under the high noon sun. The three goons were cracking their knuckles and smiling devilishly as if the stranger were a snack.

The stranger limbered up, steadying her hands and preparing for action. She remembered her wide-brimmed hat and, removing it, tossed it to the barmaid, who had come out along with a small crowd to watch the standoff from the sidelines.

The barmaid twirled the hat and bit her lip at the mysterious stranger, a handsome woman with sun kissed skin whom she felt didn't quite belong in this rough and tumble world. She got a glimpse of her short hair and striking face. If she didn't know any better, the stranger looked familiar. Or at the very least, she had seen that face before, but she couldn't place it.

But considering how she talked proper with an upper-class lilt, she definitely wasn't a typical lowlife wanderer.

"I've been aching for practice taking on benders, and then the spirits send me you hoodlums," the stranger said, a smile settling on her lips.

"After we're done teaching you a lesson, we're going to take you – and the bar wench – to that brothel right there and have a little fun," the leader said.

"Men like you don't deserve to be benders," the stranger retorted and just as quickly bolted toward them, flipping in the air and kicking up dust.

The goons responded by bending up more dirt from the ground and flinging it toward the woman, who dodged and struck the mounds causing a frenzy of dirt and dust all around.

By the time Goon Number One realized what was happening, the stranger was already coming in hot and heavy at close range, doing quick punches and kicks with seeming precision before landing a spinning back kick across his face. The goon fell to the ground and tried to crawl away.

"Pathetic," the stranger said, watching this sad display and swinging her lasso around the goon's legs, roping him in and finally knocking him out with a square kick to the jaw.

She grabbed a needle from her pouch and flung it at a point on the goon's neck and dodged a blow from the second goon just in time. Goon Number Two ground his legs down and raised a pillar of earth under her, and she did a somersault, landing upright in a four-limbed position a few feet away as if she were a predator ready to pounce.

"Mediocre," she said, maintaining laser focus on her target.

She flung a tiny needle at the man's neck, and he fell hard. Then she approached and hit him at specific points on his arms and legs, turning them to jelly, chi blocking him.

There was just one more Fool to take care of – the littlest one with the biggest mouth, the gang leader.

He was slinking off toward the saloon and the stranger pulled out a dagger and threw it in the direction of the man, stopping him dead in his tracks as it flew by an inch in front of his face and landed in the wall.

The leader motioned to bend the dagger but it did not move.

"So, it's a rare kind of pure metal then? Smart, but how about this?"

He bent metal from his vestments, creating a spinning disc and flinging it toward the stranger, who tucked and rolled but not without getting scraped on the arm. The metal flew by and halted in the air before coming back around toward the stranger, who dodged again, this time extracting another dagger and throwing it at the guy's leg, missing a main artery by centimeters.

The spinning metal disc dropped to the ground and the man screamed, fixating his gaze on his leg. The stranger took the opportunity to come in closer and throw another needle at the man, rendering him dumb and numb from the neck down.

"So you're a metalbender," the stranger said, bending over and pulling out the blade before wiping it off and putting it back in its hilt. "Adequate. But still – it's clear you learned your pitiful technique from a third-rate hack."

"What have you done to me?! To all of us?"

The other men were still paralyzed on the ground, one of them unconscious.

"Relax Fool. I was merciful. You'll be like this for a few hours, and then you can go about your wretched lives," the stranger said.

"Bitch!" the pack leader said.

The stranger bent down and looked him in the eye before yanking out the needle.

"Goon Number Two over there won't be able to bend for a day and a half. I blocked his chi in places he didn't know existed. And you can thank my benevolence that your wounds will heal – if I wanted, I could have made the effects permanent - I could have struck an artery in your stupid little leg."

The barmaid approached and looked at the man crumpled on the floor. She narrowed her eyes and bent down.

"You wouldn't tell your boss that all three of you were beat by a nonbender, would you? I mean, he'd prolly halfta replace you," the bar maid said with a smug look on her face.

Back in the saloon, the stranger gathered her bag and cloak. The barmaid once again approached with a bit of a blush on her face and handed the stranger her hat.

"Don't forget this," the barmaid said.

"I didn't. It's my favorite."

"So then either way you'd halfta come talk to me."

The barmaid smiled. Her attempt at flirting was not lost on the stranger, who replied:

"Those guys out there, that little posse – they'll be back I presume."

"Yea, but don't worry about them. They're disgraced. They won't try anything fresh for a few months."

The stranger nodded. "Good. I'm going to head out, then. Thank you for the drink."

The stranger turned to go but was stopped by the barmaid's hand on her arm.

"If you don't mind, what you're name? I'm Bae."

"I'm…Pang," the stranger said.

In a vulnerable moment at the young woman's touch, she had almost revealed her real name – Kuvira – but caught herself.

"Stay a little longer, please," Bae said, adding. "After my shift. I can cook up a fine dinner – fine for this dump anyway."

"I'm not hungry," Kuvira lied.

"And boarding. Free dinner and a room for the night to rest your weary bones," Bae said. "C'mon, please."

Being broke left Kuvira few options, and so she yielded to the young woman's offer also knowing it was a near sin to deny freed food and lodging when one needed it.

Bae's little earth shack was in one of many dusty corners of town. It was a single room with a half wall to give the allusion of more rooms and contained a fire place with two rocking chairs facing it and a bed made for two. A small table was situated in a dining area and there was no bathroom, just an outhouse.

"It ain't much, but it's a roof over my head and a place to keep me warm in the freezing night," Bae said, giving Kuvira the very brief tour.

Kuvira placed her bag down, relieved to have found shelter for the night.

"It's perfect," she said.

Kuvira noticed a picture on the wall, one the few adornments of the modest home. It was a picture of Bae and a young man. They appeared to be together.

"My husband. He died about two years ago… two years ago this month, actually," Bae said, noticing Kuvira looking at the picture.

Kuvira saw Bae wilt a little at this painful memory and began to understand the young woman's eagerness for company.

"I'm sorry," Kuvira said. "May I ask… how?" She had a feeling about something that made her gut churn.

"A battle… against the Great Uniter's Army. He fought to keep this land, but it was no use. He was a good man. My man," Bae said, struggling to keep it together.

Kuvira was lost in a memory of coming through this town, of taking it over and establishing a train station, and of the brave little scalawags that refused to give it up. During Kuvira's three-year quest to create a united earth empire, some city-states and regions yielded peacefully; others, however, did not. Either way, Kuvira had all but achieved her goal in the end save for Republic City.

"You remind me of him, Pang. That's why I liked you. But also, you're not a man, and so that's why I trusted you."

"You shouldn't," Kuvira said.

"OK, then. I won't." Bae winked at her. She continued, "I'm gonna put dinner on."

"Can I help you with something?"

"Sure. How about you start the fire place? The logs are out back."

Kuvira nodded and headed to the side of the house to fetch wood, which incidentally needed to be chopped. The moon was full and bright in the open sky and a chill had suddenly gripped the air. To warm herself up, she grabbed an axe, which rested against the home, and placed the logs on the tree stump, one by one chopping them with vigor and precision. At every phase of her life, chopping wood had been a meditative and rhythmic experience. She thought of the old adage about how after a monk climbed up the mountain and reached enlightenment, they came back down and chopped wood again. Before and after, chopping wood.

The motion of it temporarily soothed Kuvira's restlessness, spurred further by the small space and the young widow. Bae's husband seemed the kind of guy she would have wanted leading troops in her army, and she vaguely remembered the valor some dissidents displayed – a shame to her at the time to have to cut down good people like that. But in the end, she couldn't place this man. In the end he died bravely, anonymously, with hardly any witnesses to remember him save for his lonely widow.

At any rate, there wasn't much wood because resources were scarce around these parts, but what Bae had could last awhile if she was careful. Kuvira gathered up a few logs and some kindling after stacking the rest neatly, hopefully making Bae's life easier in the smallest way, a gesture perhaps meaningless considering but nonetheless quietly acknowledged.

Back inside, Kuvira started the fire and the smell of hot stew comingled with woodfire, filling the modest abode.

"Dinner," Bae said not long after that, and they sat across from each other at the small table tucked against the wall and gave thanks for the homemade bread and stew before digging in.

Kuvira was quiet, focusing her meal. It wasn't half bad, and especially because she was ravenously hungry, she had to control herself from gobbling it all up. So she sipped at it slowly and dipped her bread in occasionally and enjoyed every moment of the meal. That is, until Bae started asking questions.

"So, what brings you through town?" Bae said.

"I'm walking the Earth," Kuvira said without looking up.

"Well you ain't like other folks 'walking the Earth' round here. For one, you talk fancy."

Kuvira laughed at this.

"Me? I talk… fancy? And what does that mean exactly?"

"'And what does that mean exactly'," Bae imitated Kuvira, overexaggerating her accent, annunciating every syllable.

Kuvira didn't realize she had an accent, though, now that Bae mentioned it, her host did have a twang she found endearing.

"We're all part of the Earth Nation but we're also a bunch of distinct cultures doing our own thing. I talk crap about this town, but I love it and it's my home. Been aching to travel though… ever since my husband, well, you know," she said slumping down.

"I, I'm sorry…for your loss," Kuvira said solemnly.

"We were gonna have a baby next," she wiped a tear from her eye. "But, I don't want to drag you down. Alls I'm saying is I've seen folks come in and outta here my whole life. You're an outlaw."

Kuvira turned red and she suddenly felt exposed without her hat on.

"But don't worry," Bae added. "I ain't an elephant rat. And you don't have to talk about yourself if you don't want to."

The former Great Uniter could only nod appreciatively though remained skeptical.

"Thank you kindly for the dinner, by the way," Kuvira said finally.

She finished every last bite to show respect for her host, though she would have done it anyway.

After dinner, they made their way to sit in front of the fire and absorb its warmth. Kuvira nestled in the rocking chair and sat with her legs splayed, enjoying a rare restful moment in which she could be utterly present.

Bae sat next to Kuvira in the other dilapidated rocking chair. They rocked awhile, and Bae took knitting while Kuvira cleaned and shined her daggers, admiring her own craftsmanship in the process. She had been devasted to sacrifice her bending but eventually learned to accept it.

And now, she wandered from town to town in search of something she could not yet name. Was this purgatory, she wondered?

At bedtime, Bae placed a blanket on the floor in front of the fireplace, and Kuvira leaned against her bag as a pillow and draped her cloak over her, before settling into sleep.

In the late evening after the fire had died out and the cold slowly settled in the small room, Kuvira curled unto herself and pulled the blanket from under her to drape around as a second layer. She closed her eyes and nearly found sleep again until a rustling from the bed behind her sounded and Bae hovered over her.

"Come on in bed with me," she said.

Wordless, Kuvira got up and followed Bae to bed, where she lay next to her, both now under the covers. Kuvira was no longer sleepy but became painfully aware of the woman to her side and how their arms touched.

Slowly, Kuvira felt a hand inch toward hers and hold it delicately. She almost pulled away reflexively but then heard a quiet sobbing next to her, neither woman looking at each other but straight up in the air. Allowing her hand to linger there, Kuvira said:

"I'm not available, emotionally. I mean, I love someone…"

Bae breathed heavily as if trying to reel in her sobs before saying: "You remind me so much of him. I'm sorry. I know you're prolly not. I just – would like to pretend he's sleeping here next to me."

Unsure of what to do next, Kuvira followed her instincts and rolled over to spoon Bae, holding her gently and cuddling that way for what felt like hours. She allowed the woman to melt into her, to pretend she was her husband if just for a brief time.

Eventually, without turning over, Bae said sleepily, "Will you take me with you?"

Kuvira could not find it in her heart to say no and whispered into her nape: "Yes."

Soon, Bae drifted off to sleep and after a long spell, Kuvira got up and tiptoed to collect her belongings. She made it to the door and without turning around, muttered "thank you."

And continued her lonesome journey.

Notes:

The last part was inspired by a scene from the movie Cold Mountain.