Note: Prompt: Quiet Moments/Healing Techniques

Chapter 2: Crescendo

He returned to the forest alone as he often did. It had been a long trek, and a thankless one.

The wolf spirit trailed behind him like a lost puppy, but he knew that it was really keeping an eye on him…keeping watch. He admitted to himself that it was annoying, if not a bit unnerving.

The wolf's blue-gray fur was stark against the dark greens that made up the misty woods. Its red eyes were beads of blood. But the outlines of watchful eyes on its chest, the pair that was part of its fine fur, were far more unsettling than the rest of its gigantic body.

Around him, the moth wasps buzzed. Their wings fluttered, but he did not miss the eyes painted on them too.

He had gone to observe the humans. Even more so, the spirits whomimicked them. The ones that shapeshifted were of particular interest. He liked the ones that took the form of a human when their spiritual energy was at its peak or controlled them long enough to make an imprint of themselves.

In a sense, those kinds of spirits reminded him of himself. They were drifters searching for their place in the world without trying to please anyone.

He brushed away the branches that tickled his sides, and yanked the annoying tangled vines away from his path. He tried not to think of all the things he could not have done, just because of his differences. Just because of who he was not.

When he spotted the lake shining before him in the midafternoon sunlight, he was excited. He was home, he was home, he was—

"I've brought the records you've asked for, mother," said Ena, interrupting his thoughts. "Every detail is here right down to the best hooked nose and the most pompous beauty mark."

Ena had arrived before him. He was much quicker than him, much nimbler. He wished they had stuck together.

Their mother rose high past the canopy. Her face was obscured by the near-blinding sun. He could see the outline of her spectral form, see the suggestion of her long knobby hands. The streams of white light that flowed around her torso also wove into her bark and skin. Even in the daytime, she was immaculate.

Ena presented his records, raising them above his furry head, and their mother swiped a grand arm over them, whisking them away into her abyss. Ena preened and he awaited further instruction.

"And…what have you brought me?" asked their mother, finally addressing him. She sounded both far away and too near. Her voice had always been like singing and beating drums at the same time. Too harsh for a human's understanding, yet soft and melodic enough that it sent a weaker being into a stupor.

The way she addressed him sent a chill through his middle.

He sighed, bowing his head in defeat. "Nothing," he answered.

Mother did not speak to him for days after that.

Aang's shoulder was throbbing. He tried to ignore it, but after the adrenaline started to fade away, it was as if all the nerves in his body were set ablaze. He could feel everything, every tremor, every hesitant step of his. The biting cold only added to the feeling of being drowned in a vat of coals.

He had sprained his ankle when he had dived to save Hahn. His side ached, and he thought that he might have also cracked a few ribs too when he banged against the sinking ice sheet during the same endeavor.

But there were people he still needed to help.

He bended the slicing snow away from the rescue party that followed behind him and Katara. They had passed the entrance to the city minutes ago but making it through the streets which were narrower than the outside tundra was a more tedious task. There was less room for the waterbenders to make their protective shields to hide them from the raging blizzard. At the very least, their path was a straightforward one.

He and Katara led them carefully up the steps until they reached their destination. He nudged the doors open with his uninjured shoulder and with a rush of immense relief, he and the rest of their party tumbled inside with smiles and grins on their faces.

"Suluk!" called a mother. Her braid was a mess and strands of her dark hair had come loose. She ran to embrace one of the children they had saved. "Oh, I was so worried! Thank the spirits you're okay!"

There were many similar encounters that happened around the room. Chief Arnook was called in not long after, haggard from hours of assisting with the refortification of the outer walls. He looked pleased when everyone seemed to be in much better spirits.

An older sibling helped with healing a few scratches that her younger brother obtained. Husbands hugged their partners close when they realized that they had returned from the storm unscathed.

Aang let out a breath he did not know he was holding.

"It's your turn now," said Katara by his side. Her eyes wavered with concern. Her gloved hand hovered over the spot on his dislocated shoulder that hurt the most. For a moment he had forgotten about the pain in the thrill of happiness for others. "I need to look at that. And…the rest of you."

He snorted, melting into his wife's touch. A smirk twitched at the corner of his lips. "Look at me, huh?" he asked with the most innocent expression he could muster. "All of me?"

Katara scoffed, her jaw dropping open in a scandalized fashion. She slapped the same shoulder, and he shouted a reflexive, "Ow!" before she apologized hastily.

"Now's not the time for that," she said. Yet, there was a joking tone to her voice. She encircled her fingers around his wrist and began to lead him to the connected hallways that would bring them to the dignitary guest quarters where they were staying.

"Well, I might disagree there," he replied, waggling his eyebrows.

The clamoring voices of the dozens of people gathered in the chief's hall faded behind them. Their joyous exclamations and enthusiastic laughs trickled down into drops that joined a calm ocean. Thoughts of the blizzard outside dribbled away and soon in this white-blue expanse of ice and stone, he and Katara were alone at last.

Oil lanterns lit their way, hanging from metal rods hammered into the walls. The flames were bright and inviting with puddles of light that dissolved around them. Orange on cool ice.

He wondered at the silence but welcomed Katara's presence. She was a comfort to him when no one else could be. Even through their chaotic mission through the storm, knowing that she was with him gave him both the courage and the strength to keep going.

They were nearing their room when he heard an unusual sound. At first, he thought it was Momo who had secluded himself away from the cold he hated in favor of the warm blankets atop their bed. But no, this was more far-reaching than his animal friend's incessant chittering.

He stopped walking just shy of the turn that was the final stretch to their room. Katara made a noise of surprise when she moved, and he did not. She glanced around to stare at him, raising an eyebrow.

"What's wrong?" she asked. She pursed her lips in disapproval. "We're almost there."

He watched the dancing shadow at the end of the hall, the one that graced its grabbing hands on the decorative scone with stylized deep-sea waves that a talented waterbender must have created.

He saw the profile of a young man with stubble and then the back of his warrior's tail. In the hand that dangled at his side, he held onto a white mask with blood-red lips.

The man disappeared around the opposite corner.

"Aang?" Katara pressed. He could hear the worry there.

He returned his attention to her, frowning. "I think I saw someone up ahead," he said. "I think it was Hahn."

Her lips parted. "It's just Hahn," she said.

He shook his head. A peculiar feeling had settled onto him. Almost as if whatever he chose at that moment was too important to disregard. He needed her to understand.

"We need to follow him," he implored her. "I don't know why, but we do."

Katara sighed, but she softened. "Okay," she said. "Just promise me that I can heal you after this."

"I promise," he replied with a smile.

It was his turn to lead her now. He chased after the shadow that for some reason, he realized only he could see. The dark thing reached down the winding walls, around the pillars, through even the lights themselves.

Ringing echoed in the back of his head. A beacon perhaps, as if he was being told where to go without thinking about it.

He saw the back of Hahn's heels as he rounded corner after corner. The steady click-clack of their footsteps were the only things that made any sound. All the possible noise was muted around them. His ears were full of cotton. His breaths were a light breeze.

Moments later, he found himself in front of the round wooden door that led to the Spirit Oasis.

Katara gasped beside him. "Are you sure this is where he went?" she inquired. She looked skeptical.

Aang nodded. "I'm sure," he said. He pushed open the door.

A whoosh of spring air came to meet them. They stepped inside. Katara tugged off her parka and assisted him with removing his cloak. They carried their outer garments by their sides as they strode onto one of the bridges that connected the oasis' grassy island to the outer section. The door slammed shut behind them propelled by an unseen force. Perhaps the wind.

Aang blinked, his shoulders slumping. "There's no one here," he said, confused. "But I could've sworn that I saw him go inside."

The two of them looked around for the next few minutes, trying to see if there was anything they missed. But there was not much to miss in the Spirit Oasis. Above the cliffs that enclosed them, he could still see the storm clashing with the hills in the late afternoon. A slice of dim light told him that this was the hour that the sun chose to show itself, even if just for a short while.

They stepped onto the island. The grass smelled fresh, and it was soft under his careful steps. The modest copse of trees that grew behind the wooden archway rustled on a warm breeze. The waterfall fed into the waters surrounding them, splashing in a constant rush.

Inside the pond, he saw the black and white koi fish who were the moon and ocean spirits, circling each other in intricate patterns. Instead of staying in the center, they circled, then swam to different parts of the pond to rotate in another direction. He found it odd.

Katara cleared her throat. "Well," she started, "Maybe this is a good thing. The water here is fresher than what's in my pouch in our room. It will heal your injuries faster."

Aang smiled, finally agreeing to settle down. "I might just be delirious," he said. "It's been a long day."

"That could be it," she agreed. Though he could not help but wonder what he was trying to convince himself of. She gestured at a patch of the ground near to the pond and told him to sit.

They sat in the silence for a long while. She had unbuttoned his robe until he was bare-chested and slipped off the fabric with gentle motions. He hissed when she brushed against his bruising shoulder socket.

"Stay still," she whispered. Her breath blew on his skin.

The sound of flowing water reached his ears. His shoulder cooled. He saw a subtle glowing light from the corner of his eye. For a short instant, there was excruciating pain. He gritted his teeth. Then as quickly as it came, the pain subsided into nothing.

The water slid away. He tested his shoulder.

"Good," Katara said. He felt her tremble on his back, then the press of her lips startled him. She kissed the same spot she had just healed.

She crawled so that she was in front of him. Her expression was gentle, and her hands now hovered over his ribs. She gathered more water from the pool in a graceful arc. He admired the way she made waterbending look more like an art form than simply a way of life.

In minutes, even the terrible ache at his side was gone. Her fingernails were delicate on his skin. She moved to his ankle.

For that moment, it was just them. No one asked for their help. No one begged for the Avatar to fix their problems, and no one pleaded for Master Katara to teach a dozen children the same octopus form.

It was times like these he cherished with his wife the most. These were the moments where they could bask in their own silence and where they could be with each other without the interruptions that so consumed their daily lives.

As they had grown older, these times had become fewer and far between. They had more duties now, more responsibilities that not many could claim. Aang was reminded in these quiet moments that they always had each other.

Katara finished. The fondness in her eyes was unmistakable. She leaned in to peck him on the lips, then sat back on her haunches.

"All healed up," she said. "I expect you to be a good patient this time and not hurt yourself tomorrow."

He chuckled, tilting himself toward her face with a smile. "If I was a good patient, then I couldn't ask you to heal me anymore."

He kissed her again. His palms moved to her back. He tucked himself around her and savored the taste of the sea and sky.

The ringing returned at the back of his head. He shoved it down.

But it kept ringing.

And ringing.

Ringing.

Katara gasped. They pulled apart in one abrupt motion. The water burbled from the pond. He saw the koi swimming in erratic shapes. Water blasted upward, then churned around them. He could not control it, either. The familiar tug that compelled him to waterbend was nowhere to be found.

He could no longer see anything nor hear anything. He searched for her, calling her name.

He glimpsed a silhouette in the shower and hoped. He reached for his wife again.

Katara rose after her name was called, the water falling away. But it was not Katara's face he saw, no. It was someone else's.

"You're not Katara," he quivered. He fell onto his back in shock.

Her figure stared at him. Her dark chocolate eyes bored into his soul and her pink lips dipped in disappointment.

"And you're not Kuruk," said Umi.

A shadow rose out of the pond behind him, and she was dragged underneath its waves.

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