The sky was pale and faded by the glare of the noonday sun. A pair of ostrich-horses scratched at the dirt, bearing two beefy men with hard faces, narrowed eyes sharp and watchful. Bao checked the saddle straps on the third animal, slapped the leather saddle bag shut, and turned to Lu Da, his paunchy stubbled chin juddering.

"I'm trusting you to hold down the fort while I'm gone, make sure that trade tomorrow night goes off without a hitch. Hiruto Beng, the man you'll be meeting and spearhead of the market, doesn't like to be kept waiting so make sure you're there early."

Hands in his pockets, Lu Da shrugged coolly and cocked a crooked smile. "You got it."

The ostrich-horse shifted and squawked as Bao swung himself over its back. Lu Da squinted against the sun as he looked up at the man.

"While you're gone, I was hoping I might pay Rinna a visit. Or several."

Bao gazed down with a redolent smirk. "Of course. Jufeng can show you to her apartment post haste if you'd like. And he'll be around to help you get acquainted with all the ins and outs of things while I'm gone, should you need him."

The man in question gave an indignant huff of a breath, visibly sour from his untimely demotion from the big wig's right hand. He reminded Lu Da of an oversized weasel. Ugly, with a patchy dark beard, beady green eyes, and the habit of running a flickering tongue over his lips before speaking.

"That'd be great," Lu Da said with an easy grin, and the line between Jufeng's brows deepened. But he knew better than to argue or complain before Bao the Bloody.

"Try to keep these goons from running the place into the ground while I'm gone, huh?" Bao jabbed. And with that, he kicked his animal into full speed and the other two followed, a cloud of dust at their heels as they thundered away.

Lu Da turned to Jufeng. "Well?" he said. The man returned his gaze with the kind of contempt people save for crimes most foul, like he had taken the last honey cake he'd had his eye on. Lu Da fought the urge to smile and gestured with an arm. "After you."

Grumbling vulgarities, the weasel man set off. The Bloodhound and company shrank into the distance as Lu Da was led down the streets of houses to a collection of larger buildings, each three stories high that housed several smaller living spaces. Through a rickety door up the musty stairwell to the third floor, and Jufeng pounded on the door twice before swinging it open unprompted, and Lu Da noticed the lock had been broken off.

At the intrusion, Rinna started but spared them scarcely a sidelong glance, as though someone barging into her living space was not in the least unexpected. She swept the floor with a broom, the bristles scratching at the wood as her mouth twisted.

"What do you want, Jufeng?" she spat, scowling at the floor.

"Someone to see you," he rumbled.

She looked up, her pursed lips falling loose as Lu Da stepped past him through the doorway. Just as quickly, her surprise curdled to bitterness. There was silence for several moments as her eyes crawled between the two men in her doorway, nervousness leaching through her scathing visage like a mouse being cornered by two hungry tomcats.

A pang in his chest and Lu Da flicked a sideward glance at Jufeng hovering behind him, cleared his throat.

"A little privacy?"

The man grimaced, the look he flashed dripping with disdain, but he walked back out the door, clicking it shut behind him.

For several moments, only their breaths filled the void of glacial silence as he stared into those large brown eyes burning with scorn. Rinna stood poised, tall and defiant, but her knuckles were white where she clutched the broomstick.

"To break the ice," he began at length, "I'd say we both have something in common. You don't know what I'm going to say… and neither do I."

"You're trying to be charming, I assume."

Glancing at his feet, he huffed a laugh. "Trying and failing apparently."

Her eyes narrowed. "You're new here and it shows. Only the new ones start out acting coy. Just get it over with and get out."

"You're used to men paying you a visit here, I take it. Happens a lot." She didn't deny it, only held his stare unflinchingly, with the kind of grit that came from the constant fight for survival.

Slipping his hands in his pockets, Lu Da nodded and slowly made his way further into the room, sighing as he glanced around. The place was small and stern with modest furniture, walls bare save for one window with clouded corners and a portrait of a smiling family. On a scarred, wooden table sat a tiny music box and a smaller rendering of the man in the portrait. Stately, with greying hair and warm eyes, noble and strong. Her father, maybe. The governor Bao's dogs had killed when they took over.

Rinna backed away step for step until he stopped and leveled his gaze on her.

"No one else will be bothering you again. Bao's given you over to me."

"Oh… how romantic," she snorted. "My hero. I suppose since you intervened and saved me that day, I owe you. I should be grateful. Now I only have to spread my legs for one man whenever it pleases him." The words twisted her face and she shook her head. "And now you're working with him?"

Lu Da sighed heavily, his eyes flicking down to the scratched floor and back up to hold her scathing gaze, a staring contest that stretched for miles.

"They doled out twice the abuse that night in retaliation, after they dealt with you. But you couldn't have known that." She grimaced as though tasting something bitter. "What a fool I was to think you were any different. Good men only exist in stories."

His chest twisted and the truth perched itself on his tongue, but he held it back. Not yet.

"Well?" she said. "What are you waiting for?"

He looked at her a moment longer, weighing the words he wanted to say, reining them in. "I just wanted to make you aware of the new arrangement. I'll check in on you later. Got some errands to attend to." He started for the door and stopped, turned back around. "Anyone lays so much as a finger on you, you tell them you belong to me now by order of Bao himself."

Something flickered in her gaze but she scowled, her loathing burning into his back as he left.

:.: :.: :.: :.:

All his life, people had misjudged Lu Da. They took one look at his burly stature, his heavily tattooed body and mohawked head, his piercings and rings and made a snap judgment: hard, ruthless, thug, more brawn than brain.

Bao Zirrik had misjudged him too.

Dusk began hushing the town to a restless sleep. A harvest moon, full and orange, hung low in the sky and Lu Da was casually and silently making his way up the road toward the large building that was home to the managerial offices, one in particular where Bao kept all of his affairs locked up tight. He had given him the key for safekeeping and Lu Da turned it around now in his pocket, the jagged teeth rough against his palm.

A sound, like the faint scuff of a foot from behind. He did not flinch or falter, but his heart beat a little faster as he looked over his shoulder. There was no one behind him, only the breeze flicking a dried leaf across the road. He kept walking.

The three stairs at the building's entrance creaked as he ascended and, finding the main door unlocked, he let himself in. Off the murky, dead hallway was a long row of doors. He walked it with nearly soundless steps, finally coming to stand before the one he was looking for, and fished the key from his pocket. Peering down the hall to be sure the coast was clear, Lu Da slotted the key, turned it, and pushed the door open.

It scraped over the doorstep and he cringed, giving a last furtive glance over his shoulder before slipping through and closing the door behind him.

Bao's office was in a state of half-organized clutter. Mounted shelves, bursting with books all leaning against each other in different directions, lined the walls. On the mahogany desk was a map, stuck with colored pins, a quill and inkwell, and a stack of papers sitting under an iron crow-shaped paperweight. Three locked drawers lined either side of the desk and Lu Da wondered, not optimistically, if the key might unlock them too.

Another bookshelf stood in the corner with yet another stack of papers under a polished onyx stone. Ambling closer, Lu Da could see they were closed invoices from various vendors and suppliers. Delicately, so as not to leave evidence, he fingered through the stack and searched for the most prolific transactions, committed several of those names and corps to memory. But his interloping would need to be split across several shorter visits and the more he snooped around, the greater the risk of being caught. Right now, he wanted to focus on the biggest bang for the buck. Bao's ledger and more sensitive documents were likely stowed in one of those drawers.

Walking around the desk, he tried the first one. Locked. They all were, as he'd suspected. Lu Da tried the key but it was too large. What he needed was something to pick the lock and he looked around.

His eyes snagged on the pins stuck into the map. They were perhaps too short and a bit flimsy for the task, but these locks were small and it was seldom he came across one that he couldn't sweet-talk.

Carefully, he plucked two pins out of the map, making note of where to replace them, and crouched down before the left column of drawers. The pins scraped and scratched gainlessly at first, then something grated and clicked.

There it was, right on top, as though it had wanted to be found. Bao's book of knowledge, of business and records. He cracked open the leather spine and started flipping through attentively. Impending transactions and trades, in and outgoing shipments, the Blood Brotherhood's allies and competition. Lu Da could start by silently sabotaging some of these bigger deals. If Bao suddenly couldn't uphold his end, the man would make some enemies quick—

"What do you think you're doing?"

A voice boomed from the doorway and his heart leapt into his throat. Lu Da cursed, turning to see Jufeng filling the frame, and forced his heart back down, donned an easy air he didn't feel.

"My job? Thought I'd take initiative and familiarize myself with the nuts and bolts of this venture. As Bao's right hand, I wanna pull my weight best I can."

Jufeng studied him sharply with those beady green eyes, his tongue flickering. Lu Da fought to keep his upper lip from curling in revulsion.

"What's that there?"

Glancing down, he raised the book up casually. "The ledger. You know, Bao's accounts, partners, upcoming trade and cargo shipments—"

"I know what it is. My question is, what are you doing with it?"

"Found the drawer, figured Bao wouldn't mind my being proactive in his stead. You're aware he put me in charge of tomorrow night's deal. I wanted to get a good look at the details, see what else is lined up and where I might dive in."

Eyes narrowing, Jufeng probed, "If my memory serves, you're to share tomorrow with Yima."

"Yima will be there, true, but the charge is mine, straight from the Bloodhound's mouth. Is there some kind of problem you have with the way Bao's arranged it?"

His mouth formed a white slash, a repulsive flicker of that tongue again. He was such a freakish thing, it was a wonder he was not killed at birth. "Lock it up when you're done, and not a single slip better be out of place. Boss is very particular."

"It will be like I was never here."

Jufeng turned and stalked out, his footsteps echoing down the hall with angry thuds. Lu Da wasn't sure whether the man was suspicious of him or just salty. But either way, he would have to tread extra carefully, watch his back.

Though his accommodations were comfortable, sleep did not come easily that night. Lu Da's brain was running wild with thoughts of the next few days, how much digging and damage he could do with Jufeng on his tail before Bao returned. A few hours tossing and turning brought the sun up and he got to work again.

Familiarizing himself with Bao's competitors, penning anonymous letters with information that could prove detrimental to the Brotherhood in the wrong hands.

Finding out where Bao had accounts and where he laundered his money. Jufeng, it turned out, was heavily involved in that area of things, which could prove problematic. If he could undercut him, get him out of the picture or at least diminish the role he played in it, perhaps bit by bit, he could begin to drain the accounts and siphon them off to charities around the region.

Mingling with some of the lower henchmen over drinks or cards or pai sho. Making friends and earning their trust, planting shrewd, subtle seeds of misgiving around their standing with the boss, slowly eating away at the respect and admiration for their self-made tyrant.

Night came again with a moaning wind, faintly stirring the heavy, damp air as he came to stand now along a lonely stretch of road just outside of town. At his back sprawled a small patch of dense trees, and across the road a pagoda, long since forsaken and hedged with tall shrubs and overgrown with bamboo.

The four girls were bound in rope and huddled together, their quiet sobs lost beneath the thunder that rolled overhead. Yima shifted and crossed his arms. His sable hair was pulled back to reveal a strong face silvered with scars, smart grey eyes set well within their sockets and watching the horizon intently. The gloom of the imminent storm crept into Lu Da like dampness into bare timber. It widened his senses and prickled over his skin, traveling to his heart which thumped in quicker rhythm.

He looked behind him. Lu Da had been thorough and meticulous, covering his tracks and making sure no one other than Yima had followed him here. Still, his eyes searched the surroundings with greater intensity, finding nothing but the shivering trees and shades of darkness. Nothing, but that feeling. Nerves, that was all it was, but there was only one chance at doing this right, and he didn't want to think about what would happen to him, or to Rinna, if he was found out. If he failed.

Lu Da cleared his throat to draw his comrade's gaze. "Alright, Yima. Appreciate the hand in getting this set up, looks like we're all set. I got it from here."

The man blinked rapidly, his brow knitting hard. "What do you mean?" He stepped toward him with his head cocked. "Are you… dismissing me? This is my job, Dirty Hands, Bao assigned it to me."

"Oh…" Lu Da arranged his face into a mask of apologetic discomfort. "He didn't tell you? Bao put me in charge of the transaction tonight, said he wants me to oversee it. Didn't say much about you."

The rain started, pitiless and cold, spattering upon their faces in chaotic drops and slicking strands of hair to their heads. His expression, previously occupied by mild and growing annoyance, puckered in insult.

"But… this has always been my job."

"Not anymore, looks like. Sorry, brother. You give the big man any reason to doubt your capabilities of late? Maybe he just thought you needed a break, wanted to ensure this lofty deal goes down smooth."

His mouth opened and he spluttered, "I've never once let Bao down, I—"

"Hey, you don't have to sell yourself to me, alright? You're more than qualified, unappreciated for all you do around here in my opinion. If it were my call, this would be different, but my instructions were clear. And I really don't want to go against the boss's wishes, do you?"

Anger boiled in his rain-streaked face, his muscles tense, but at last he blew out a breath as though extinguishing a flame and grumbled, "No."

"I'll put in a good word for you when he gets back. But for now, why don't you take the night off? Kick back and relax for a change, I'd say you've earned it."

With a harrumph, Yima muttered, "Nice to know someone thinks so," storming off and grumbling curses as he went.

Lu Da's lips curled faintly. Get enough jackasses disgruntled at the boss and you put blood in the water, undermine Bao's esteem. He watched and waited until the man was out of sight, scoured the area again, and then turned quickly to the girls.

They flinched back and cowered in unison as he drew his dagger and shot his other hand forward, clutching the ropes of the first.

"Listen to me," he commanded, silencing their whispered pleas, their shimmering eyes wide and wild with fear. "You are not being sold to anyone tonight. You are going to keep to the shadows and run as quick and quietly as you can north of here, and don't stop until you reach Shin Lun Village. It's neutral territory, you'll be safe there. Do you understand?"

"You're letting us go?" The girl's voice was brittle and choked and he looked each one firmly in the eyes.

"You are no one's property. Not anymore."

Tears spilled down their face to mingle with the rain.

"Bless you."

"The spirits have heard us."

A rustle of movement caught his ears like a deer hearing twig crack and he held up a hand.

"Shh," he hissed, silencing the girls at once, and looked around. Maybe it was just the rain, the wind in the trees, but the hairs stood up along his neck, that feeling again of being watched. In the corner of his eye, a distant smudge on the dark horizon turned his head. The caravan. He needed to move quick.

A sharp gasp pierced the storm-thick air and one of the girls yelled, "Behind you!"

He spun around scarcely in time to catch the shadowy blur charging him and block the attack, metal singing as the blades clashed. A forceful kick to the gut sent Lu Da reeling back, feet slipping over muddy earth, and Jufeng's face flickered in a crackle of lightning, contorted in rage as he lunged forward again.

"You fucking traitor! I knew I smelled a rat," he snarled. Metal glinted dimly, wet in the rain, but this time Lu Da parried the blow with his own steel before slicing forward, forcing Jufeng to dart back. "And I'll have you know it was Bao who sent me to shadow you, wanted to be sure you could be trusted. He'll be glad he did when he finds out his own right hand was an impostor."

Shit! He should have considered that Bao might put a trail on him. That he wouldn't put full stock in him right away, not after how much time had passed. Jufeng sprung into attack again and Lu Da quickly sidestepped, swinging his arm to crack the hilt of his sword against the man's temple, splitting skin over bone.

Jufeng staggered away, fighting to keep on his feet. For a moment, he looked like he would puke, but he managed to straighten up. Unadulterated rage contorted his face, blood mixing with the rain that lashed and hammered like it meant to wash them from existence. Lightning split the utter blackness, cleaving the night in fragments, but just for the briefest of moments. And in between that violent illumination the man was there and then gone.

Lu Da blinked, pulse roaring in his ears, and he pivoted just as an iron grip clawed his shoulder from behind and a searing fire raged through the side of his stomach, flesh torn open. The blade twisted and ripped free and Lu Da howled in agony, his sword arm pressing tight to the wound as he turned around. Pain weakened his grip but instinct told him to hold tight to his weapon and he slid it to his non-dominant hand.

The other man came at him with a lightning fast thrust of steel, again and again, and Lu Da gritted his teeth as he darted back swing for swing, managing to block a blow that would have opened his gullet. The warmth of blood was blooming heavily through his cloak beneath the pressure of his right arm.

A laugh rattled with another shock of thunder and a smile split Jufeng's face, his teeth stained red.

"I'll be sure to give the Bloodhound your regards," he growled, harsh and gravelly.

With a powerful charge forward, he swung his weapon brutally and it clashed with Lu Da's own, nearly throwing him off balance by the force. Anchoring his footing, he mustered all his strength and arced his sword. In the second that Jufeng's blade was thrown aside, Lu Da sliced bone-deep into the man's sword arm. The agonized roar was silenced by another sharp crack to his wounded temple just as Jufeng shifted hands, prepared to strike again with force. The blow stunned him just long enough for Lu Da to skirt behind and bury his steel deep between the man's ribs.

A few choked gasps and the weasel lurched forward then crashed down onto the soggy earth. Bowed and clutching his ruined side, Lu Da staggered over to the frightened girls who cowered again, visibly shaking. Every shallow breath was another twist of a knife, but he grabbed their ropes again and began sawing through awkwardly with his blade, the hilt and now the ropes slippery with blood. Their bonds severed at last and fell to the ground at their feet as the four exchanged quiet sobs.

He spoke through gritted teeth. "Run. Get to Shin Lun Village. Don't look back."

They obeyed without a hitch, the ground squelching under their feet as they took off and Lu Da glanced back toward the horizon.

The deeper smudge of black in the dark was growing near. The rain would help mask the coppery smell of blood, but even if he managed to dispose of the body in time, hiding the deep glossy slick on his torn tunic would not be so easy. Kneeling down, he stripped the dead man of his cloak and put it on with a pained hiss. Then, bracing himself against the agony, he dragged Jufeng's heavy body toward the pagoda, feeling blood pumping liberally out of the gash in time with his thrashing heart. Hissing and groaning, he managed to haul the man into the dense tangle of shrubs and bamboo, rolling him a couple feet further for good measure. The body would have to be dealt with properly later, but at least it was hidden for now.

Standing quickly, Lu Da swayed and the edges of his vision began to close in, a wave of nausea and light-headedness nearly taking him down. But the caravan was rolling up and his only hope of surviving, of not seeing all his efforts extinguished in a matter of minutes, was to see this through. Then he could figure out what to do, how to fix this mess. If he made it that far.

The convoy of covered wagons rattled over the puddled ground and came to a screechy stop before him. Lu Da pressed his arm tightly to his side and forced himself to stand straight with a shuddering breath as a man descended, his boot thunking down the single stair.

Hiruto Bengwas tall and lean, with cold eyes as that cut like two shards of steel. As he came to stand before Lu Da, his foot sloshed through a puddle that he knew wasn't just rain, and Lu Da was immensely grateful for the storm clouds that sheathed the world in darkness tonight.

Crossing his arms, Hiruto gave a sneering huff of a laugh and made a show of looking around. "Am I in the right town? Where are the girls?"

The pain choked the breath from his lungs like a noose around his neck. But, forcing a steady aplomb, he responded coolly, "Bao changed his mind. There's no trade tonight."

The man blinked hard, cocked his head. Stepped forward, those cruel eyes slicing him through. "Changed his mind?"

"That's right."

Clammy sweat was beading on his skin and he had to force himself not to crumple, to breathe evenly through the pain, keeping an arm covertly pressed tight to his side. Despite his efforts, he could feel his life beginning to leach through the thick fabric of the cloak. If he didn't get help soon—

"We came prepared to pay one of the steepest rates for what we were promised would be priceless goods. I turned down a lucrative deal, came all the way out here on Bao's word that it'd be worth my time. Now he just reneges on it?" The man stepped close, his steely eyes narrowed and his voice falling ominously low. "You tell that Bloodhound that if our money is so worthless to him, we can cut our arrangement right now. Next time he wants to pull out, he better give us a heads up before we go out of our way. Or someone's gonna have to pay for the inconvenience."

Lu Da clenched his teeth against the mounting nausea and fought to maintain his composure. "I'll see that he gets the message."

His incisive gaze flicked down over him once as he chewed the inside of his cheek, a shadow churning behind his eyes. But at last, Hiruto turned and climbed back on the wagon, shooting him one final glare as they carted off.

As soon as the caravan was out of sight, Lu Da buckled to his knees and tipped forward, holding himself up with one shaking arm while the other held tight to the wound. He swore through his teeth, feeling the warmth of blood soaking through the cloak now, beginning to drip from the hem. Not good. It was too deep to be staunched by pressure alone. If he was seen like this and it was discovered that Jufeng went missing the same night, after being tasked as his shadow, it wouldn't take long for anyone to put together what had happened. What Lu Da was doing.

But, it wouldn't matter much if he bled to death before then. He needed help.

Slipping and staggering to his feet, he cradled his wound and half ran, half hobbled through the back streets and alleys toward the only place he could think to go, avoiding muddier areas and anywhere he might leave tracks.

His head felt clouded and his vision fuzzy as the apartments came into view slowly through the rain and mist. The front entrance was a last resort so he circled around back, hoping for another way up. Decorative trellises were affixed to the rear façade between windows, roses climbing up the sides. He scanned the row of third-floor windows, trying his best to remember which one would be Rinna's. And mustering all his reserves of strength and resolve, he started up.

Thorns bit into his palms and his hold slipped more than once, his body screaming, his hands slick with water and blood. Streams of red were running down the crisp-white lattice. Ripe speech was Lu Da's specialty and he used it now in spades. Hopefully the rain would wash away the incriminating trail he'd left by morning.

Reaching the third floor, he peeked inside the window he hoped was the one and sighed in relief. Rinna was in her nightgown, shaking her chestnut hair loose as she began to glide around her living quarters, snuffing out the lanterns. Lu Da rapped quietly on the pane, afraid to startle her. She stiffened, looked around. He knocked again, louder, and this time he watched her gasp as her doe-eyed gaze snapped to the window.

Their eyes met through the ripples of rain running down the glass. Lu Da tapped with a single fingernail, mouthing the word. Help. Feeling nervous laughter bubble up his throat at the absurdity of the situation, the pain and dizziness swiftly tamping it down.

For a moment, she stood there gaping and then she crept to the window, stooping down hesitantly to crack it open. Loathing was quickly rising to overtake her surprise.

"Have you been peeping on me?! You coward. At least have the decency to come through the door like all the—" She stopped short, her eyes flicking to the watery smear of red on the windowsill. "Is that blood?"

"Please, just let me in. I need help."

She seemed to waver for a moment, considering it, then her expression hardened. "No. Go ahead and bleed to death and stay away from me."

"Rinna, let me explain."

"What could there be to explain?" she spat.

"Oh, I don't know, maybe the fact that I'm bleeding copiously from a stab wound and that of all the places I could have gone, I'm hanging on a trellis outside your window in a rainstorm?" She studied him with a hawk's keen gaze. "You think I'd come here if I didn't have something to hide? I didn't know where else to go."

"What happened?"

"Can I tell you while you stitch me up instead of bleeding out all over your window sill?"

She snorted and rolled her eyes with a heavy sigh. But at last, the window slid open. "Get in here."

The windowsill was high and slippery and he groaned through his teeth at the effort it took to haul himself inside. She didn't help him.

"Strip down to the wound," she ordered brusquely. "I'll see if I can find a needle and thread and some alcohol."

Lu Da watched her disappear around a corner and shrugged off the water-logged cloak, clenching his jaw as he dragged his bloody tunic up and over his head, dropping them to the floor. Sagging, he raised a hand to lean against the wall, pausing almost too late at the sticky gloss of red that caught the light, coating his hand. He drew it back to his side and tried to keep from swaying.

A swift, soft knock and Rinna's voice came from just out of view.

"Are you decent?"

He huffed weakly. "Not morally, but I'm still wearing pants if that's what you're asking."

Rounding the corner, she flashed a short, scathing smile, carrying a wooden box and a bottle of cheap saké. A tattered sheet was draped over one arm.

"I wouldn't be making jokes right now if I were you," she warned, muttering something unsavory under her breath and gesturing for him to sit on the wood floor, kneeling beside him. Her eyes locked on the wound, widening as she looked up at him. The animosity was momentarily extinguished. "I've never done this before."

"I'll walk you through it," rasped Lu Da, swallowing against the nausea. "Don't worry, you'll do great." He gave a roguish curl of one side of his mouth and her frown returned.

Lying back, he winced and did his best to pull the wound together as she sluiced the alcohol over his gaping flesh.

An explosion of expletives turned the air green, an entire dictionary of crude pirate's words. He hissed through his teeth, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts. Rinna's mouth twitched and her brows pinched, but she showed little remorse.

As the blistering pain ebbed, he grated out between shaky breaths, "Alright, pour some on the needle too to sterilize it, and then you're gonna go in at a right angle, through one side and out the other, repeat. Tie a knot when you're done. Piece of cake."

She snorted with a shake of her head but followed his instructions, lining the needle up with his wound. Her expression was composed, but he could see her hand trembling faintly. She wavered only a second before pushing it in, the black thread weaving in and out of his torn flesh.

As she worked, her eyes fixed firmly downward, Lu Da studied her face. The muscle that twitched in her jaw was the only evidence that she noticed.

"Look, Rinna…" he began. "I know that I'm bleeding all over you, and this probably isn't the best time to say this, but… I kinda like you."

At that, her eyes snapped up. "You like me?" She scoffed and spat the word as though it were an insult, the needle stabbing through a little harder. He winced.

"…A lot."

"You can go to hell." Fire stewed in her eyes even as she recoiled slightly, bracing for the backlash. But Lu Da only smiled.

"Oh, I am, in so many different religions. I admit I've done a lot of bad things, and I do those things very well. But selling women like a herd of cattle tonight was not going to be added to my resume."

Her hands slowly stopped as her eyes slinked up from his wound to meet his gaze again. "I don't… Is that what…?" She trailed off and he watched as the realization began to take hold. A breath passed her lips and her voice when she spoke again was faint and halting. "You're not working with them?"

"Beautiful and clever."

Sitting back on her heels for a moment, Rinna spluttered, "Are you insane?" Bewildered, she shook her head and threaded the needle through one final time, tying a knot, then snipped the end with a pair of sewing scissors. "Why would you come back then?"

"Isn't it obvious, sweetheart?" Grimacing, he managed to sit up and meet her eye to eye. "I'm here to cut the ballsacks off every last one of these scat-loving fuckweasels who get their rocks off hurting innocents, treating women and children like objects. And I'm going to see Bao's empire run into the damned ground."

He explained about the ledgers he found, where and how the money was being laundered, his plan to start siphoning it off, planting evidence on certain goons Bao trusts, sabotaging trade deals. Jufeng's death might even have proven a happy accident. With the right staging, he could make it look like the man ran off with years' worth of money. She listened with rapt fascination, shaking her head as though in disbelief.

"The caravan tonight got nothing, traders think Bao went back on his word, Yima is fostering a healthy dose of resentment, and the girls who were to be sold fled on foot. Oughta make it to neutral territory by daylight. But I should've known Bao would have me shadowed. He may have made me his right hand, but he's smart and doesn't trust me implicitly, too much time's passed since we've worked together. I'll have to prove to him that he's wrong, though framing Jufeng should help that along."

Rinna stared for what felt like ages and Lu Da held her gaze quietly. Her lips twitched up in a trembling breath, eyes glistening, like she was trying to decide whether to laugh or cry.

"Right now, I don't know if I want to kiss you or shove you out that window."

He chuckled nervously. "Can I pick?"

She choked out a laugh and held his gaze. The swirls of emotion he saw there squeezed his undeserving heart. Almost hesitantly, she brought one hand up to the scarred side of his face, her thumb sweeping lightly over his cheekbone. A shy look as she leaned closer and Lu Da let his eyes travel her face, tilting his head to entice her in. Lips parted, breaths passing between them and eyes sliding closed, and finally her mouth captured his softly.

Something like magic ignited. He kissed her back, slow, letting her lead and caressing a hand up her face, ribbons of hair running through his fingers. And she seemed to sense it, his deep respect and consideration for her and all she had been through.

The heat of the kiss deepened as her arms slid around his rain-damp neck. Sudden stabs of pain seethed through the side of his abdomen, and his lips broke against hers with a throaty grunt.

Rinna gasped and drew back. "I'm sorry, I forgot…"

"Don't be," Lu Da smirked, in spite of it. "I'm not."

His rings glinted in the light as she took his calloused hand in both of hers, a smile perching small on her lips before fading to a solemn expression. "It's a valiant plan. But you're crazy if you think you'll be able to manage this alone."

"I know," he conceded. "So, now that my secret's out, I could really use some inside help."

Soft smile returning, she leaned in once more and kissed him, then pulled back to lock those beautiful brown eyes with his.

"I'll do everything I can."


Walking out of the Whisperwoods was like breaking the surface of water and gulping down the first breath of air. Ozai drank in the glorious expanse of benign hills and valleys rolling on for miles, hedged in by a distant wall of harsh, sky-spearing peaks. A cool breeze murmured through the grass and wildflowers, as if the whole earth shared in their collective sigh of triumph and relief.

It took some time for the fog in their heads to clear and the whispers with it, the slow waking as from a long, torturous dream. Still, they did not dare to stop until the Carraberto Wilds were a dark smear at their backs. Squeaking swallows were chasing the dragonflies that whirred low over the slopes. A herd of animals grazed in the distance and raised their heads curiously, thundering away before they could come near.

Above, the vaulted blue skies were bruised with clouds, lances of sunlight shifting across the sweeping waves of grass as they finally stopped to rest. Fern shook herself contentedly as the saddlebags were dropped to the ground with a heavy thud, and she took to grazing the lush green tussocks.

Katara had turned her back, the skirt of her dress billowing in the breeze and hugging the side of her figure. Shyly, she tucked a lock of windblown hair behind her ear. Finding a distraction in the idyllic landscape, but the gentle flush of pink that had arisen to her cheeks gave her away. Somewhere in Ozai's mind buzzed a word of warning on repeat. But here, in this blessed calm between storms, his heart was beating too loud to concentrate and he couldn't fight the thoughts and images going through him now.

He approached her slowly.

Katara's head turned toward him a fraction as he came to stand behind her, and there was that static again, the crackling in the air every time they came close. Slow as melting wax, he ran his fingertips from her shoulders down the covered length of her arms and she opened like a flower at his touch. Goosebumps bloomed along her skin, her back swelling with a soft inhale as his hands slid lower over the enticing arch of her hips.

She reached back, flingers slipping down the sides of his abdomen to rest at the rim of his belt. Slowly, Ozai gathered her hair and lifted it off her shoulders, burning a kiss at the junction of her exposed neck. At the press of his teeth, she shivered and tipped her head away to give him access. A sensuous sigh as he kept hold of her long tresses and eased her head back, back, goosebumps thrilling along her skin as he dragged his lips up her neck inch by inch. Nipping the curve of her jaw, the soft place behind her ear, his beard grazing her sensitive skin. He was teasing, taking his time, and she could hardly bare it.

Turning in his grasp, Katara's lips found his and the world vanished instantly. The way her smaller body melted into him, how their lips fit together, the way she surrendered so completely as he held her tighter and tighter obliterated thought of anything else. The pillars, the avatar, the Sunstone all fell away as she pressed herself into his chest. His tongue skimmed her bottom lip, gentle but demanding, and a heady sound escaped her throat, somewhere between a gasp and a moan.

Katara moved up on tiptoes and clutched fistfuls of his doublet to trap him against her. He craved more, craved her, their kisses growing deep enough to drown in. Ozai tugged at the ribbons on either side of her bodice, unlacing them slowly at first. And as her fingers started up the clasps of his doublet, opening one and then the next, she teased him with her kiss. Sometimes a featherlight brush, other times deeper and stroking. The coy, toying flick of her tongue or the soft nip of her teeth. She seemed to read his thoughts, and just when he could barely stand another moment, she deepened the kiss, changing the pressure.

The last clasp came loose and she parted his doublet, sliding her palms up the troughs and furrows of his chest to his shoulders. She slipped it off, silver-stitched charcoal ruffling to the ground, and caressed along the broad slope down to his biceps, her lips playing across his own. Soft and silky, deep and urgent, tempting him and stoking a hot, yearning hunger up from his core.

Ozai raked his hand up her neck to tangle in her hair with a groan and claimed her mouth in his greedily. Her shivers locked her muscles tight, the flame in his chest and his groin flaring near out of control. He felt the rush of helplessness as she dissolved into him, gripping his waistline, pulling him closer.

Fingers fumbled with clothing as they sank down to the grass and he urged her onto her back beneath him. In one strong hand, he captured both of her wrists above her head as his hard body covered hers, earning him a breathless gasp of pleasure. Their legs were tangled, one of hers trapped between both of his and Katara mewed and arched her back as he pinned her down, his tongue exploring the dip of her neck and collarbone, nibbling the sensitive skin there. She rolled her pelvis instinctively against his thigh, grinding her hip against his own need, and in the delirium of sensation, his grip loosened for just an instant with a deep sound in his throat.

Her hands slipped free to dart to the buckle at his pants. The skirt of her dress was bunched up around her waist and the upper laces released by his deft fingers, her bodice falling open. He inhaled her, her intoxicating scent, and the way her legs opened to him in supplication, her ankles locking around his lower back, sent bursts of electric sparks down his center.

Desire took him like a flood. She unhooked his belt, opening his trousers to his uncomfortably tight smallclothes, and it all intensified so quickly. Her dress became a pool of lavender, her chemise not far behind. He kissed her hard. Like her lips were air and he was drowning. His hand slid up her thigh behind her knee, drawing it up further and she moaned, arching into him. The satiny smooth skin of her stomach slid against his naked abdomen and the deliciousness of that sensation nearly drove him out of his mind.

Katara's pulse fluttered erratically beneath his hands as he rolled his hips, aching with the lust between them and the feel of her torturous heat between her legs, imagining how she would feel around him as she rocked her hips in time with his, in desperate need of friction. She groaned just as he did and clutched at his backside, grinding wantonly into his throbbing hardness. Her tongue left a hot trail from his shoulder up his neck and he was swiftly losing himself to the feel of her, the taste of her. Drowning in the crushing need, aching from her touch.

As his fingers worked fervently at the knots of her bindings and her hands slid his open trousers down his hips, his name came on an amorous breath.

"I'm yours, always," she sighed against his lips.

Ozai tensed suddenly, desperate to press back against the intruding thoughts and kissed her harder.

"No matter what happens, when all this is over, say you'll stay with me."

Fuuuck.

His mind flooded with feral blasphemy and he broke the kiss with a barely-contained groan.

Katara blinked rapidly through the lust, their breaths rushed and heavy. Dammit. This wasn't… Ozai wanted her in a way he had never wanted anyone. Desire wasn't even the right word for it. But in spite of everything, he couldn't do this to her. The stab of guilt was foreign, disorienting.

"What?" she asked between gasps as he sat up, following him. His breaths came in rapid succession as he rummaged for some coherent combination of words.

"I just… don't want you to do anything you might regret." The defense was weak, even to his own ears.

Confusion creased her brow, softening into a smirk. "I won't," she sighed, leaning to catch his lips in hers again. A moment ago, they had been entwined in pleasure, but now, summoning all of his strength, Ozai drew back. She frowned, a glimmer of hurt bleeding through.

"I think I can make that decision for myself. Don't kiss me like a woman, Ozai, if you don't intend on treating me like one."

Heat scorched onto his skin. He raised a single, sharp eyebrow and spoke with emphasis. "I am."

She blushed in turn.

"What's wrong then?" He watched her search his face, slowly deflating as a hint of knowing skimmed the surface of her gaze. "It's what I said." A scoff. "You're still walling me out. Even now." Her hand pressed tenderly against his cheek. "You don't have to—"

"Katara…" He caught her wrist lightly and lowered her hand, looking away with a deep sigh. Her gaze began to ice over as the realization set in. This was a mistake from the beginning, he had been a fool beyond compare to let it get this far. To think he could compartmentalize it. "I know this might have given you the impression that I feel the way you do for me. But…"

She shook her head faintly in a silent plea at first, her tone heavy with hurt. "Don't do this. Don't pretend this doesn't mean anything to you. That I don't mean anything to you."

"Stop, just— Whatever you think this is, it isn't."

Katara drew back as though he'd stung her, her eyes narrowed in raw disbelief. "What is that supposed to mean?" He clenched his teeth and didn't respond. "You expect me to believe this is just physical for you?"

He cursed inwardly. Before he could gather a response, she bit back, "That is a lie, and you know it."

"Katara." Her name lashed out like an accusation this time, his tone sharpening. "I warned you I didn't want that sort of thing. You weren't listening."

Her temper rose swiftly to match.

"Me? You have been a walking contradiction, saying one thing and doing another! What did you seriously expect me to think? Oh, but you're right. I only have myself to blame, and you're just completely innocent. I see now."

Ozai felt his anger surge as he pushed to his feet. He didn't try to tame it. Feeling angry felt better. If he was angry, he didn't have to think. If he was angry, he didn't have to feel. Stalking away, he furiously buckled his belt again, feeling her eyes like two picks of ice drilling into his back. There was a stretch of silence as she watched him go, her voice coming out small at first.

"You're scared," she breathed, the realization bolstering her as she flew to her feet. Grass hissed as she stalked after him in her bindings. "You're scared of the way I make you feel! Admit it! You've spent your whole life trying not to feel anything at all that when someone honestly tries to love you, you have no idea how to respond."

That one word drew him to a halt with an alarming jolt in his chest. A second later he spun around and took a sharp step toward her, stopping her in her tracks. A strained moment unraveled, fiery gazes intense and warring, but at last Ozai exhaled defeat, the weight of it heavy in his bones. He shook his head.

"You would be a fool to fall in love with me, girl," the words grated out, his brows drawn low.

Something entirely different smoothed the ire from her face as Katara's glistening eyes held long on his, dewy with suppressed tears. His throat tightened.

No…

He felt as though he was slipping from a cliff. He was in the air, falling, with nothing to hold him.

"It's a little late for that," she managed on a breath.

The words filled the space between them, thinning the air until he couldn't breathe. His chest was caving in and the guilt swelled inside him, choking him. Agni, why did she make him feel this way?

Two words bubbled up from the pits of his fragmented soul without warning, ones that were almost too unfamiliar to give shape.

I'm sorry.

He choked them back down, the regret almost crippling. A foreign enemy he was utterly unequipped to contend with. Ozai forced himself to look at her as he twisted the knife in her heart. Her ocean eyes pulled like the tide however he swam against it.

"I can't give you what you want from me, Katara," he rasped, his jaw tight. He shook his head. "Not in that way."

The sadness of her expression slowly rusted to scorn.

"Can't? Or won't?"

He pressed his lips together and didn't answer. Katara scoffed, lifting her chin, glacier blue eyes piercing him through.

"I'm not a cloak, Ozai, that you can carry around as it suits you and then check at the door when you're through." Her flinty blue eyes were hard and shining as she swallowed back the brimming tears. "If you won't take down your walls to have me, if you aren't willing to give me all of you, then you don't get to have me at all."

:.: :.: :.: :.:

The days folded in on themselves, closed over her, buried her. In the sky, the moons moved through their separate shapes until both came up full again. The air grew colder and seemed to seep through her skin at night, grief pinning her to the ground. The never-ending ache of love and sorrow.

It was only her stinging memory of her promise to him and her fear of being alone in this place that drove her forth. She had nowhere to go, but the end was in sight now. Perhaps in some other life she might have refused and walked away, might have torn her hair out and screamed, and made him face his choice alone. But not in this one. She would follow him.

The trees traded their crowns of green for the confetti of oranges and reds. In the mornings now, the proud autumn foliage was frosted at the edges, and before long they tumbled away to reveal skeletal limbs as the brisk winds stripped the trees bare.

They passed through an alpine meadow, the scent fresh and bright in the chilly morning. As she walked, Katara ran the evergreen quills through her fingers and felt the sticky catch of their sap. Ozai's broad frame brushed a bough and sent a shimmer of frost to the ground. In fleeting glimpses, like a ghost just out of reach, she would catch the cracks and holes in his iron-hard grit. Strong and unbreakable as iron was, its own rust could eat it away, destroy it like rot.

There was something sad and tired now in the bearing of his shoulders, something that seemed less like callousness and more like resignation. A man resigned to the fate he'd carefully carved for himself like a towpath, unwilling, or perhaps unable, to change direction now. The idea that someone could care for him in spite of his polluted past, could love him in the absence of manipulation or control, was something he simply could not comprehend and it frightened him. He had been trained around his father's cruelty, his mother's neglect, the retaliatory, empty gain of power, and in the end it seemed he had not learned how to hold another shape.

Miles of stone-cold hills and valleys became a frigid wilderness of stale snow and ice. There was the crunch of frost with each step onward, their pace a steady percussion to the few winter birds that lingered to sing. Three giant white caribou stood along the bank of a sprawling, frozen lake, scraping away bits of days-old snow to eat the lichens and patches of grass. Fern snorted with keenly perked ears and the caribou watched them restively from a safe distance.

Katara sighed, a hollow ache in her stomach. "I'm hungry and my legs are tired. Can we stop for a minute to rest and eat?"

"We have to start minding how much food we consume each day or we could run out too soon," he reminded her. "Any chance of replenishing our supply will involve a village, which will spell our swift end without question, and we can't afford to use the vial unless direly necessary."

Ozai was right, she knew. Brondolf had said that these people had honed their senses to a point where they could practically smell power. And there was no way she would skate under their radar without some kind of intervention.

She thumbed the cold amulet at her neck and looked out over the ice-covered expanse of water. It brought back memories of her village, her home, her old life that had become a silhouette, as if she had walked out of a portrait and left behind blackness. The ache in her chest would still come and go in quiet moments, but now she felt a bud of warmth at the memory, a smile nudging a corner of her mouth.

"What about fish?" she asked him. "We could sit and rest while we catch and cook them over a fire."

He lifted a brow as he looked at her. "The lake is covered in a thick sheet of ice and snow."

"I'm guessing you've never gone ice fishing before, have you?" He looked away and conceded with a soft breath through his nose. She raised a half smile. "I'll give you a complimentary lesson then, Southern Water Tribe style."

They came to stand upon the frostbitten shore and sat down. Carefully, she showed him how to carve a hole in the ice with his sword and scoop out the shavings as best they could, and then she fashioned a fishing line out of a long branch and some twine, threading it through a morsel of cured meat. At the end, she added a small stone for weight.

"Fish don't move around too much in such cold water. If nothing happens here, we can try a different spot."

As she got to work on the fire, Katara studied him furtively as he sat in his Myrran cloak. The fur mantle, handsome against the thick black fabric, further accented the breadth of his shoulders. More fur on the hood pulled up around his face, silken locks of ebony spilling around the sides, his elbows resting on his knees. Never in a hundred years would she have imagined sitting on a frozen lake in exotic winter gear with Fire Lord Ozai, ice fishing. He looked so different now. Her eyes traveled from his profile down to the embroidered gloved hand gripping the end of the stick.

"Here, hold it like this," she said, scooting closer. Katara steadied the stick with one hand and guided his into position with other. "Closer to the middle and grip with your thumb, otherwise you may lose it when the fish tugs on it."

Ozai's head turned ever so slightly and she felt the touch of his gaze a moment before their eyes met. His gaze was less like an intense flame now and more like a smoldering ember, softer and giving off less light, yet somehow all the warmer for it. A ghost of a smile played delicately on her lips as those ember eyes traveled over her face, a rare softness smoothing his brow, and before she could stop herself, she squeezed his hand tenderly and brushed her thumb over the back of it.

As if it pained him, he closed his eyes, turned his head, dragged his gaze back down to the hole in the ice. He didn't shrug off her touch but the iteration stung clear. She lifted her hand from his and folded it back in her lap.

Minutes passed, waiting, and after a while he asked, "Do you miss it?"

She looked at him again. "What, ice fishing?"

"Your home. Your people. I've not heard you speak of it much." A brief pause, before adding, "Aside from some outlandish bedtime stories."

At the facetious undertone her mouth tipped up slightly. "Surely you're not interested in tales of lowly peasant life. I wouldn't want to bore you."

"Your consideration is appreciated," he replied and she looked away with a snort. "But I can make an exception. After all, you've poked and pried about plenty, I'd say it's only fair. So, tell me something now."

"Hmm." She leaned back on her gloved hands and looked out at the tattered horizon. "Let's play a game called truth or lie. I'll tell you a few things and you have to guess whether they're true or not."

"All right."

After a moment's thought, she cleared her throat. "I once went penguin sledding on the backs of a pack of otter-penguins outside my village. You'd think they'd get mad when you ride them, and sometimes they do, but that only makes it more fun."

He blinked and looked at her, amusement tugging up a single cheek. "Penguin sledding?"

"I'm not finished yet. I convinced my father to let me keep an abandoned baby polar bear seal I'd found one day as a pet. Until its angry mother, who had simply gone to find food, stormed into our igloo in a rage and nearly destroyed it. Didn't hear the end of that one for a while." Katara pursed her lips against the smirk as he stared at her and continued. "Let's see… My people's most well-loved dish is sea prunes, but I can't stand it. I also hate spicy food. Oh, and one time I kicked the butt of the sexist chief of the Northern Tribe who turned out to be my grandmother's ex-fiancé."

"He probably deserved it."

"Oh, he did. But I got him to agree to train women as warriors and not just healers, so it worked out." Then, realizing she'd given herself away, she flashed a look of mock outrage. "Hey, no fair."

"If it's any consolation, I was going to guess true. I already know you can land almost any man on his ass, especially one stupid enough to insult you."

A flattered laugh bubbled up her throat as Ozai took a breath in then and cocked his head, contemplating the rest. She waited.

"The penguin sledding is ridiculous enough to be true. I'll say true for the polar bear seal fiasco as well, knowing you."

"Uh, what was that about insulting me?"

"And I happen to know that you love sea prunes. And spicy food, in spite of your people's inferior tastes. Those were the lies. And, for good measure, I'll add that you want to love summer but hate heat and humidity, you're scared of spiders, and you think papaya tastes like vomit."

A self-satisfied smirk spread across his face as her mouth worked, searching for some clever retort. In the end, all she could muster was a faint harumph.

"I guess you were paying attention."

"As an heir in a dynasty riddled with intrigue and power plays, it's a skill you master if you hope to survive." She hadn't thought about that. A dart of pity pricked her. What a ruthless existence he had lived. "You never answered my first question."

"Oh…"

Do you miss it?

Katara looked away, the residual smile sliding off her face like a broken mask.

"I miss it all the time. With all my heart." A long sigh as she looked down at her hands in her lap. "But it's no longer my home."

The branch began to bow, the twine snapping tight in erratic fits. Her eyes shot up.

"Something's biting! Pull the line."

Ozai yanked it and Katara caught a glimpse of his face as he laid eyes on the shiny fish, flapping and flailing on the end. A subtle, quiet sort of gratification. It flopped to the ground and froze almost as soon as it was pulled from the water. It was cleaned and the meat cooked over the fire, the air filled with the mouthwatering scent of a fresh, hot meal. Meager and not very filling, but the break had renewed their strength, and they forced themselves onward again.

:.: :.: :.: :.:

For several more days they traveled on, covering as much ground as they could before nightfall. The land got colder and more hostile and at times they were forced to take a long detour around a scattered settlement.

Ozai kept tabs on the compass and the map. But there were days when their hunger and the glare off the northern ice had them moving in circles, backtracking, faltering over their own steps, but they never spoke of it, never said the word: lost. As though they both knew that would be admitting defeat. The food stores were wearing thin and the occasional fish or hare or lemming they managed to catch and cook were lean and bony. Fern was growing weaker too, her feed rationed and dwindling.

They spent the nights now wrapped against each other, her back to his chest and body fitted to his own, to fend against the bitter cold. Keeping each other alive. At dawn, they would peel themselves apart again, wordlessly and without a glance.

"What do you think Lu Da has been up to?" she asked him quietly one night as they lied curled inside their tent, the cold palpable through their sleeping bags on the ground. The mention of the old rogue nudged a crease into the side of his mouth.

"Nothing good, most likely."

A faint huff of amusement. "I hope he's okay."

"You needn't worry about him," he murmured in response. "It's the other guy you should be concerned for."

This time, he felt the quiet shudder of a laugh through his chest. It tugged a corner of his lips up toward one cheek.

"I miss him." Katara shifted slightly to get comfortable, a lock of brown hair tickling his jaw. He stubbed out the strange tremor inside his granite heart. "Do you think you'll meet up again when you return?

Ozai drew in a slow breath, let it out again. "I see no reason to, our business will have come to an end."

"…But, he's your friend."

"We had a contract. Friendship is an idealized myth, an illusion."

"Well, that's a bleak outlook, and also kind of unfair." Her head turned toward him slightly and he could see the curl of her lashes flitting beyond her cheekbone. "I think Lu Da might take issue with that. It's clear as day that he counts you as a friend. You think anyone would go through half of what he did for you for the sake of some stupid contract? Not without a lot more complaining and demanding more money."

He expelled a light breath through his nose at that. For a while it was quiet, only the bitter breeze rustling past their shelter. Her body was warm, molded to his, and sleep was just beginning to steal over his senses when she spoke again, soft and halting.

"When you go back to the Fire Nation… are you going to challenge Zuko's rule?"

The question was unexpected and left him momentarily disarmed. He had been preoccupied for so long with the avatar, with the twists and turns of completing this mission, that it had been some time since he had given proper thought as to his steps if he made it back. Given her history with his son, Ozai was unsure whether he might be baited into a conversation he did not want to have with her. So for now, he took an easy out.

"I don't know. Surviving is my main object right now. I haven't thought that far ahead yet."

"Yes you have," she countered softly, but boldly. "You just don't want to think about it."

His mouth pinched in one corner. "Is that so? And why not, waterbender?" It came without warning, the way the epithet played gentle now on his husky tone, and seemed to stall her for a heartbeat.

"Because deep down, you're afraid. That once you have your victory, it will feel hollow. That whether your bending comes back or not, your whole purpose will suddenly be dried up and you'll feel aimless and empty. And alone."

Her voice was intimate as the whisper of sheets, so her sudden bluntness caught him off guard. Those words, stark and naked in the air. He closed himself tightly to it and would not quail, opening his mouth to argue.

You don't know me, girl.

But it was dust before he could speak it. Less than two months spent together and she seemed to know him better than anyone ever had. Perhaps, at times, better than he knew himself.

He closed himself to that too.

"I have always been alone. It will not be different." But the contention landed flat. He could not deny there would be a world of difference after this, and he would be a castaway on its shores.

Ozai felt the slow rise and fall of her back against his chest. Katara said nothing further, letting the silence speak for itself.

Another two days trudging and tottering over the frozen wilderness and rocky crags. If his projection was right, they were nearing just over a day away from the Ice Marsh. But doubt had begun to creep its way into the back of his mind, about whether he had lost his bearings and they had gone off course, whether they would succumb to a shivering death.

They set camp one evening upon an outcropping overlooking a series of jagged gorges that cut through the Myrran landscape. Thin rivulets of water had frozen in its tumble over the sides, gleaming like filaments of glass. A small fire rustled and sighed as they nibbled on their rations and Ozai watched the flames toss soft shadows across Katara's glowing profile.

For a long time, neither of them spoke. The sun had dipped below the horizon and drained light from the sky, and when she exhaled it made a small puff of steam in the dark.

"I've decided that, after I open the portal for you, I'm going to stay here. Well, in Arclais anyway. It's a beautiful place."

They looked out over the icy ravines, washed in the pale glow of moonslight, and a silence hung between them. He knew what she wanted him to say. What the next sentence should have been. I will stay with you. But he could not utter that, not now and perhaps not ever. And Katara simply kept silent, for she did know him well.

The flames grew quiet, the logs in the fire white with ash. She rose and headed for the tent, ice and pebbles crunching beneath her soft steps. "It's getting late and it's cold," she said as she went. "Don't be too long."

Above him, the constellations spun and the moons paced their weary course. Ozai snugged the fur hood of his cloak tighter and gazed up at the crystal-clear stars, following their patterns until his eyes strung them into shapes. A smeared band of speckles split and snaked amidst the blackness like a pair of serpents, two threads of tarnished stars.

A gust of wintry wind swept, swift and sudden, over the ridge and carried a plume of his breath out of sight. Ozai braced against it and clenched his teeth, dragging himself to his feet. Fern had grown a thick layer of fur and was curled up beneath a ridge with the saddlebags. The tent Brondolf had bestowed on them offered very little warmth beyond what they shared, but where it lacked, it made up for in shelter from the elements. He lied down at Katara's back, his arm draping over her side, and drew himself close to share their heat. In her sleep, she shivered and nestled back against him.

The storm rushed by in the night, and the thin fabric of the tent trembled with its force. He could hear the slap over and over of snow and sleet reproaching the hide walls. Katara stirred, rolling so they were chest to chest, and the air stirred with her, bearing the lily-sweet smell of her body. His eyes brushed over her face, drinking her in. There in the quiet dark, he allowed the truth to take shape ephemerally. This is what he would miss, he thought. When the end came.

The next morning, they picked their way across an ice field, splintered by jagged crevasses and glaring in the daylight, keeping to the solid expanses between the rifts. By afternoon, the heavens had turned grey and opened up in a violent squall of flurries as if by divine pent-up rage, blanketing the world in white and further drudging their steps.

Though they had walked as often as they could to keep Fern from exhaustion, they rode now, the poor animal huffing and snorting as she slogged through the dense expanse of white, leaving giant, mismatched tracks in the virgin snow.

Their breath hung in white clouds before their lips, beads of melted snowflakes clinging to their lashes. Behind them now, the pale circle of the sun glowed against the cold sky, casting knee-deep shadows across the frozen land.

Hours dragged by and Katara was slumped heavily against his back, jostling listlessly as Fern carried them on. The frigid air suddenly felt too still, too quiet. Ozai sat up straighter, looked around. He had the distinct, scalp-prickling sense that they were being watched, but the barren surroundings showed no signs of life.

The loose arms around either side of him tightened as Katara perked up and peeled herself from his back.

"What was that?" she whispered.

Ozai's eyes cut toward her and then scoured the snowy crags.

"What?"

"I don't know, I thought I heard…" She shook her head. "Maybe it was nothing."

His skin tightened.

"No bending," he said under a breath. The futility of those words settled like a stone in his gut. She knew better, of course, but either way it might not matter if they had been detected. Ozai had done his best to circumvent towns or villages, but that did not safeguard them from potential hunters or wanderers.

There was a hiss in the air, the dull thunk of something hitting the snow beneath them. Fern whickered and reared sharply and Ozai saw the arrow protruding from the ground at her feet. The cobwebs of cold and fatigue were ripped away as adrenaline flooded hot through his veins, and he roared, "Go!" kicking the animal into a frothing, laboring gallop.

Katara's arms were a vise around his stomach as she fought to hold on, a muffled yelp against his back as another arrow whisked by, a deadly sliver that flashed through his field of vision and pinged off a nearby crag. They had no armor to protect themselves and Ozai ordered Katara to duck down as far as possible while Fern careered them heedlessly through the frozen wasteland.

Two more arrows flew, one sailing perilously close to his ear and he flinched aside when a throttled cry rang out from behind him. Katara's weight slid from his back and he turned, too late, clutching the reins in one hand and reaching for her with the other as she tumbled from the saddle into the snow.

With a violent haul of the reins, Fern veered back around and Ozai's heart thrashed against his ribcage as he leapt off. He felt a rush of relief through the panic – the arrow had pierced her shoulder, missing any major arteries or organs – and he dropped to the snow beside her, quickly gathering her in his arms to help her up.

Katara groaned feebly. His mind raced, thinking of tossing her over Fern and making a break for it. But the animal was on her last leg and if the worst happened, if they were all wounded and hunted down before the concoction took effect…

Rifling inside her cloak for the vial at her neck, Ozai tore off the stopper and held it to her parted lips, pouring some of the liquid into her mouth.

"Drink it," he whispered urgently, eyes darting about the stony cliffs, the snowy valleys for their assailants. "Hurry."

He needed to get them back on the saddle and away from here if they stood a fighting chance of survival. But something wasn't right. Katara wasn't responding. She surely wasn't drinking. Was she in shock?

Shifting her in his arms, he held her upright, some of the concoction spilling from her lips. Ozai tilted her head back over his arm, fear rising, pouring more of the liquid into her open mouth.

"Drink it, Katara," he begged, flinching as an arrow speared the snow too close beside them. His pulse hammered in his ears. "Drink."

Ozai massaged the girl's throat, shook her gently despite the gripping panic. But she only stared vacantly up at the pale sky, her shining blue eyes now dulled and empty. The grip of dread tightened around his throat as Ozai's gaze crawled to the wound, drops of crimson staining the snow beneath her. It wasn't a fatal shot…

The realization gutted him hollow.

Poison.

His stomach filled with ice and the world came crashing to a halt, another arrow hissing vaguely past his ear. He shook his head in denial. Katara hung limp in Ozai's arms like some broken doll, the arrow jutting from her shoulder, her pink lips draining of color. The tyrant in him had seen death descend countless times before, had grown callous and desensitized to the coldness of it.

But the man in him, the man who had grown to care so deeply for this bewitching girl who had chiseled her way into his heart of stone, he refused to believe it.

"No, Katara… Please."

How dangerous, he realized in shattering dismay. To finally have something to lose.

His eyes hot and stinging, Ozai prayed for some miracle, like in the tales he'd read as a boy. Some mighty hero to ride in on a fearsome dragon, some powerful sorcerer full of wishes to spare. The bitter irony wrung him dry. He had been in death's cold clutches once before, and Katara had pulled him back, hemming life back into him in more ways than he ever could have imagined, with no second thought as to whether he deserved it. Now here she hung in his arms, lifeless, rosy cheeks fading to a pallor, and there was no one to save her.

In the cruel silence that dragged on, Ozai finally felt the many ways a man could die yet still be alive. His insides felt as raw as if the winter wind was blowing right through his skin. He poured the last of the vial into her mouth with gritted teeth, a crushing weight on his shoulders, a scream building in his lungs, but his voice was only a ragged whisper as he pressed his forehead to hers.

"Please…"

The air hissed and a jolting, sharp pain splintered through his shoulder blade, forced the breath from his lungs. The world began sliding out of focus, a numb chill spreading through his body.

The horizon tipped on its side.

And with a final soundless plea on his lips, everything went dark.