Disclaimer: I do not own ATLA or its characters.
The Albatross
There was a crispness to the air, the sharp bite of the early evening, when they left Asuna's restaurant. Their visit had left them with as many questions as answers, and Katara and Suki trudged along in silence. Kele walked beside them, eyes alight with interest and a clearly growing impatience at the lack of conversation.
"How much credence should we lend an elderly woman with dementia?" Suki wondered aloud. She bit her lip at Katara's injured look. "Sorry," she murmured.
Katara sighed, turning down the alleyway that lead to her father's house. "It's alright. I was wondering that, myself." She rolled her shoulders uncomfortably. "Asuna clearly thinks there's something to the rumors, but..."
"But?" Kele urged.
"I can't remember her ever being particularly in tune with the Spirits," Katara admitted. "In fact, I barely remember her even speaking of them. Stories here and there, but they were more a way to pass the time than anything else."
Suki brought her hands up to her mouth to blow a warm breath across them. "But, does that make her more credible, or less?"
"Maybe she's right," Kele said, shrugging. "I mean... my father thinks that your Tribe has strayed too far away from the Spirits' teachings. Maybe she really is seeing an angry Spirit who wanders the streets at night. What?" he asked defensively when he spotted Katara glaring at him.
"Your father is a politician, not a theologist," Suki reminded him gently.
"And, it's just a hair too convenient that it just so happens to occur when my Tribe is on the verge of signing a treaty with the Fire Nation," Katara added.
Kele stopped walking and shoved his hands in his parka pockets, a deep frown on his face. "What are you suggesting?"
"That your father is a complex man," Suki said delicately, "with his own personal interests."
Kele blinked. "How so?"
"His suggestions- and objections- seem to consistently work squarely in the North's favor."
At this, Kele's cheeks began to redden. "Is he not here as the North's representative to the South?"
Katara put her hands on her hips. "I thought he was here to help the South."
"He is," Kele insisted. At the looks of skepticism on both women's faces, he blew out a noisy breath. "Is that really what you think of him?" he demanded. "I shudder to ask what you think of me, then."
"I don't know what to think of you," Katara admitted bluntly. "You more or less accosted us in the street. We appreciate your help, but your association with your father makes this lead a bit... suspect."
Kele stiffened. "And therefore, discredited?"
"No," Katara said, shaking her head. "We'll pursue all leads with equal fervor. I'm just making an observation."
"Well, I wouldn't lie to you. I only wanted to help. And you can believe whatever you want, but my father wants the same." He looked around uncomfortably. "I think I've overstayed my welcome. If you..." he flushed uncomfortably.
"If we what?" Suki asked, her arms folding across her chest.
"If you need me again, I really would like to help," he muttered, still red. "I'll see you around." Without another word, he took off, the icy crunch of each step fading when he turned down a narrow alley.
Katara exchanged an exasperated look with Suki. "What do you think?"
Suki pursed her lips thoughtfully. "You're right about him accosting us on the street... but maybe he's telling the truth. Let's give due credence to this Spirit theory, but maybe tomorrow we can pursue some different avenues."
Katara gave her a questioning look.
"We need to talk to the widow... and, perhaps most importantly, we need to look at Katsuro's body."
"Okay," Katara said. "We'll need Aang to pursue the 'Spirit Theory', anyway. Unless you've developed an affinity for the Spirit World over the course of the last year. Not that I would know," she added under her breath.
Suki's lips quirked downward slightly.
"We're going to have to discuss it at some point," Katara stated primly.
"We did discuss it. At the Fire Days Festival."
"That was barely a mention, let alone a discussion."
When Suki ground her teeth in frustration, Katara was reminded of Sokka, a comparison that pained her. "It's hard for me to talk about, Katara."
"He isn't the same, you know," Katara murmured. "Whatever happened between you two, it broke his heart."
"And mine," Suki heaved, dejected. "And I didn't just lose Sokka- it felt like I lost all of you in one day."
Katara frowned. Suki looked so... sad. Hurt. Without thinking, Katara reached for her hand. "You haven't lost me. Or Aang. And- I don't know what happened, but I don't really think you lost him, either."
Suki didn't reply, but Katara felt her squeeze their joined hands.
The moment was broken with the sound of many footsteps, heralding the return of her father, Sokka, and Aang. Their faces were grim. They might as well have worn a sign that declared, 'The Council meeting did not go well'.
Katara's own shoulders slumped. Most of her afternoon had seen her embroiled in police files and dubious theories, but she had not forgotten Aang's refusal to allow her or Suki to enter the Council Chamber. Her heart thudded angrily in her chest at the thought, and she took a calming breath. There was no doubt in her mind that her husband had only done what he felt was necessary, but that didn't make the pill any easier to swallow.
Aang raised his hand to greet her, and in his eyes she could see the weak hope that this morning's affront would be behind them. He trotted over to her. "Katara," he greeted nervously.
She pursed her lips and nodded back to him. Neutrality was the best she could manage at the moment. "Aang. How was the meeting?"
His face fell at her tone as Sokka and Hakoda filed in. "Dismal," Sokka grumbled on Aang's behalf. "Tokala is cleverer than we thought."
"Probably even cleverer than that," Suki noted. "His son waylaid us as we were leaving the police station, and we're starting to doubt that it was a coincidence."
"Kele?" Hakoda asked. "I know him. He's a good man."
"That remains to be seen."
"What do you mean?" Aang asked.
"I thought he was just coming over to greet us," Katara explained, not meeting Aang's eyes. "But, before we knew it, he was assisting us with the investigation- and lead us to a Southern source who may have corroborated their report about the Spirits."
Hakoda sighed. "Asuna."
"You knew," Katara said, her eyes turning sharply to her father.
"She has tundra sickness," Hakoda hedged. "I don't want to discredit her, but she's not necessarily a reliable source."
Aang frowned thoughtfully. "Katara's told me about tundra sickness before... If I understand it correctly, it sort of makes its victims 'forget'. Am I right?"
Hakoda, Sokka, and Katara nodded.
"Getting into the Spirit World- or seeing Spirits- sometimes requires a little bit of suspension of disbelief," Aang continued. "Or, in other words, 'forgetting'. Its possible that a person with tundra sickness is seeing Spirits that ordinary people wouldn't notice."
"Suki and I were going to talk to you about it," Katara told him. "To see if you could help look into it. When it comes to the Spirit World, there's only so far that she and I can go."
Aang smiled his agreement, and in that smile, Katara could see his eagerness to do anything to bridge the gap that had grown between them. A gap that felt like it was growing with each passing moment.
After a quiet dinner, the group retreated into proverbial corners, the stress of the day manifesting itself in a tense silence. Throughout the meal, Aang had tried to get Katara to look at him, speak with him, forgive him, but each touch was met with stiffness, each question with a monosyllabic response. As soon as the meal ended, Katara had stalked from the table and into the tiny room that Hakoda had provided for the duration of their stay.
He followed her in nervously, gently parting the fabric that partitioned the room from the rest of the house. She sat on the bed, her back turned from him, and her shoulders noticeably stiffened when she heard his arrival.
"Katara, can we please talk about this morning?" Aang asked her quietly, acutely aware of how easily their voices would travel within Hakoda's tiny house.
She deigned to nod at him, one minute bob of her chin, and he went to her, kneeling before her and taking her hand in his.
"I didn't want to do it," he began. "It broke my heart to do it."
"I know."
His hand went nervously to the back of his neck. "I didn't have a choice. They weren't even willing to work with us, and we needed them to. You know how important this is."
"Of course I know," Katara muttered, pulling her hand out of his. "Of course I know what might have happened, or what could have been said, or could not have been said. I understand why you did it."
"But... you're upset with me about it."
"Wouldn't you be? Spirits, Aang, you just gave in. You just gave them what they wanted."
"It's not always about who wants what, Katara," he said, willing her to understand. "Sometimes, I don't get the privilege of choosing who's in the room."
"You did today. And I didn't make the list." She wrapped her arms around herself. "And don't look at me like that- I know its childish. 'Poor Katara didn't get invited to the important meeting'."
Aang tried to reach for her hand again, but she shifted away. "It doesn't sound childish at all, Katara. I know you could have helped. I know that there's a very distinct possibility that you or Suki- or both of you- could have had the very idea that would push these three nations into something akin to peace. But Tokala doesn't know that, refuses to know that, and that moment was not the time to teach it to him."
"When is, Aang?" she implored him.
He faltered, unsure of what to say, and she gently moved him aside so that she could stand from the bed.
"There will never be a convenient time for that conversation, Aang. It will never be easy."
"I know how important it is to you. It's important to me too. But, I'm still learning how to balance all of this, and it- it's hard, Katara." Aang dropped onto the bed heavily. "All I want to do is support you- you're my wife, and I'd leave the Fire Nation, the South, and the North in the dust if it would make you happy. But... I can't always do that."
Katara's lower lip trembled once, and she bit into it to keep her emotions under control. He knew that's what she was doing, because that's what she always did when she was trying not to cry. The knowledge broke his heart. "I don't want to talk about this anymore," she muttered finally, when the red rim around her eyes was growing steadily redder. "Please, can we talk about something else?"
"We can resolve this, Katara, I know we can-"
"I'm sure we can, but not... I can't be a priority to you, right now," she said, looking away.
"You are always a priority to me!"
"I know you want that to be true," she replied, but her voice broke a little, and he took her face in his hands.
"It is true," he insisted.
She shook her head gently. "I can't be right now. You had to choose. Please, just... give me some time to accept that choice. And to accept that there will be other times you will make it."
"I will never want to make those choices," he murmured brokenly.
She pulled away from him, wiping tears from her cheeks quickly, as if she could scrub away the last few moments. He stood by helplessly, unsure of what to do.
After a moment, though, she turned back to him, her voice all business. "My aunt says that she sees a great Spirit wandering the village at night. That he's looking for something. She didn't know what, though."
"You want me to speak with it."
She shrugged. "If its there."
"You don't think it is?"
"I don't know," Katara said, a little more forcefully than was really necessary. She flushed in embarrassment. "But, Suki and I agreed that we should pursue all leads. And, from the sounds of it, the Northern Tribesmen are taking this theory very seriously. If they're right, we have our answer regarding The Unity Act's implementation. If they're wrong- well..."
Aang rubbed the back of his head. "I'll look into it." He chewed the inside of his lip. "We're... we're alright. Aren't we?"
But Katara didn't answer, her eyes filling with anguish and sympathy. She squeezed his hand once, before turning from the room.
When Katara brushed past him, eyes still red and cheeks still tear-stained, Sokka wanted to chase after her. This was why he stayed; for her. For when she needed him. He half stood, until he remembered.
Remembered that Aang was there now. Aang was the one who provided her comfort, who provided her the shoulder to cry on- even when the comfort she needed was because of him. Aang's love for Katara was more than he could ever hope for. And Sokka wasn't needed so much, anymore.
"Let me," his father said gently, and Sokka sank back down to the furs that layered the floor of his house.
"I think she wants space," Sokka muttered. "She'll talk to Aang, when she's ready."
Hakoda eyed him sadly. "It's hard, isn't it? Not to be needed." He turned towards the front entryway with a muted sort of longing. "You two were there for each other. Just the two of you- for so long- so you know. How hard it is."
Sokka frowned. "She still needs me, sometimes," he mumbled, but the words were old, and meant less than they used to.
"Of course," his father said mildly. "And I know that you're there for her. But... this is just part of life. They- you guys- grow up. And then they need someone else."
Sokka looked away sadly. "I know."
"She still wants you there, though, and that's just as important," Hakoda said, resting one hand on his son's shoulder. "But, allow me the chance to comfort her this time, if you would."
"Go ahead," Sokka said, gesturing through the entryway before settling deeper into the furs. His father gave his shoulder a tight squeeze before following Katara into the cool night air.
He had moments to stew on that turn of events- and the conversation- before Suki sat down beside him. Close enough to feel present, but far enough that he couldn't reach her.
"I'm sorry, Sokka," she said softly. "That must be hard."
He almost scowled. "Did you listen?"
"It's a small house."
His cheeks burned red. "My father just gets sad, sometimes. He missed so much of our childhood, sometimes I don't think he understands our... bond." He flushed even deeper. "That sounds silly."
"It's not silly. You raised her. You raised each other."
"Now we're grown."
She smiled gently, piercing him. "It doesn't have to be such a tragic thing, you know."
Sokka grunted noncommittally.
It must have been a satisfactory answer, though, because she continued, her eyes fixated on the low ceiling. "This is part of life. She has a husband that she loves. They have a life together, and she has all the comfort that she could ever want. This evening notwithstanding," she added sadly. "For the most part, she's happy. How could you want any more for her? How could you not want more for yourself?"
"I did."
Her eyes whipped from the ceiling to regard him sharply. Her mouth opened once, her tongue darting out to run over her lower lip, but she closed it and looked away. "That's not what I meant," she murmured.
Sokka sighed sadly. "I know- I'm sorry. You don't want to talk about it."
"But I'll talk about this," she said, gesturing around them. "Katara and Aang will always have a place for you, but... do you ever think about making a place for yourself?"
"All the time," he admitted. "I just... don't know how to get there."
"What do you want?" She asked him. "You, and no one else?"
Sokka looked at his hands, his long fingers, the callouses on his palms. He was a while in answering. "To help people. To make change. To be... needed."
When he looked up, she was smiling again, and Spirits, he wished he could take her hand in his.
"I think you could have all of that," she said. "You just have to look for it."
His heart began to pound when she didn't look away, but before he could say anything else, Aang emerged from his room, dejected. He sat down bodily between Sokka and Suki, practically slumped over his crossed legs.
"You heard us, didn't you?" Aang asked both of them almost accusingly.
"It's a small house," Sokka evaded, echoing Suki's words.
Aang turned to Suki. "For what its worth, I truly am sorry. I never wanted either of you to feel unwelcome, or unimportant, or unheard."
Suki pursed her lips, but dipped her chin after a moment. "I accept your apology. I wish it hadn't been necessary, but... I understand why you feel it was."
"Thanks," he mumbled.
"So, what are you going to do now?" Sokka asked.
Aang shrugged. "She said she didn't want to talk about it." He snorted mirthlessly. "Then, she said that she wanted me to look into this whole 'Spirit' theory. Then she told me she wanted space."
"I didn't hear that third part," Suki noted offhandedly.
"It wasn't in so many words."
"So, you're going to go after a Spirit?" Sokka asked. "Do you want us to go with you?"
Aang shook his head thoughtfully. "I'm going to have enough trouble getting into the Spirit World as it is, with all this emotional... turmoil." He waved his hand in the air above him. "I think I need to be alone."
"She may want you to wait for her," Suki said.
Aang worried at his lower lip. "She wants to clear her head. I don't think she wants to be around me, right now... but I know she wants answers. If answers are the only thing I can give her, then that's what I'm going to do." He shrugged. "She can't follow me into the Spirit World, anyway."
"Where will you go?" Suki asked curiously, and Sokka remembered that she hadn't had much experience with Aang visiting the Spirit World.
"Out there," he answered vaguely. "Let her know, will you? I don't want her to worry."
"We will. Be safe."
And when the room fell silent, when Aang pushed through the heavy furs of Hakoda's entryway and sent flames spluttering on the wicks, Sokka keenly felt the quiet. Suki had said all that she would say, and she sat mutely, her knees against her chest and an aura of thoughtfulness on her face. He tried to ignore the way her eyes would search his face when she thought he wasn't looking. He tried to ignore the silent pleas he saw, separate and distinct. 'I need you', said one. 'Stay away', said the other.
Tears rolled down her chin, dripping with a soft patter onto the hard packed snow below her bench. Katara wiped at them angrily, Aang's words and the little furrow at his brow, the one that told her he was in anguish, replaying in her mind.
"Katara?" her father asked softly, stepping into the light of the lantern that lit the little courtyard she had stopped in.
She straightened instantly, wiping once more at her face. "Yes?"
He sat down next to her, hesitating for a moment before draping his arm over her shoulder. But that little touch sent her back to tears, and she leaned against him, seeking comfort that she had been denied in his absence throughout her childhood. When the second wave of crying subsided, he wiped at her cheeks gently.
"It's going to be okay, Katara," he murmured to her. "Marriage is hard, and yours, I think, will be harder than most."
She nodded against his hands, which cradled her face, the way he had when she was little. "I know he didn't want to. I know I'm being... I know."
"You've been cursed- and blessed- with the roles you stepped into," Hakoda said, pulling her gently against him again. "You're his wife now. There's honor, and duty in that."
"Must I perform that duty at the cost of my self?"
"Of course not- but there is a cost. Remember, marriage was something you asked of each other. Nobody asked him to be the Avatar, and he certainly didn't ask for it." He smiled down at her. "I've seen the way he looks at you, the way he's looked at you since before he was a man. He'd turn away from all of this for you, if he could. But, he can't."
Aang's words. Her father's voice. It didn't make hearing them any easier.
"Choosing between duty and love is the hardest thing I've ever done," her father continued. "It never got easier."
"What do I do?" Katara asked miserably.
"Love each other, serve each other. Remember why you do what you do." His shoulders bowed, and he squeezed her tighter. "And weather it the best you can."
The village grew darker the further from it's center Aang strode. He didn't really pay any attention to where he was going; in fact, he wasn't going anywhere in particular. Just away. Into silence.
She would forgive him. He knew that. He'd make it up to her, somehow.
That didn't make the weight any easier to carry. He hated when Katara cried. Hated it even more when it was his fault. And it broke him to know that she was right. There would be other days, other choices where he would have to chose someone else, something else. A nation in distress, or a leader who needed his word. And it would break his heart every time.
"Avatar Aang!"
He turned abruptly at the voice, and tried not to scowl openly at Tokala, who trotted up to him from behind. "What?" he grunted before he could stop himself. He bit the inside of his lip. "Uh- I mean... what is it, Councilman Tokala? I'm sort of busy at the moment."
Tokala blinked in surprise, looking around at the scant houses that dotted the edge of the village in random intervals, long shadows flickering between them. "My apologies," he said, his voice betraying some of his confusion. "I did try calling you when you left Chieftain Hakoda's house," he added dryly.
"Sorry, I was... lost in thought."
"Yes, well," Tokala said with a breath, "there is much to think about."
Aang couldn't think of anything to say, so he simply grunted, shoving his hands into the folds of his robes and bouncing somewhat impatiently on the balls of his feet. "Well, is there something you wanted?"
He regretted his question immediately. "In fact, there is," Tokala said, his lamp-like smile returning, more a curling of lips than anything else. "I simply wanted to speak you regarding the Council meeting today. And... before."
"Before?"
"I didn't mean to cause you trouble. I meant no disrespect to your wife. Or the Kyoshi Warrior."
A little vein in Aang's forehead pulsed. "Thanks."
"Were they quite upset?"
"I'm not entirely sure that you're entitled to that information," Aang replied flatly. "But, you were there. You saw. Infer whatever you like."
The corners of Tokala's lips tightened. "Very well... then, the Council meeting. I hope you can understand my intentions. I do not seek to sow discord. I seek to represent my people. Only my people. My dislike of the Fire Nation may seem like obstinance, but I was there, Avatar Aang. I fought in the North by your side when they came. I saw the destruction they brought with them. I saw you and the Ocean Spirit become one."
Aang faltered at the memory. Of the power, of the agelessness and sorrow and pain. "I remember."
"We lost our princess, and I buried my brother that day- Amka's father," Tokala said quietly.
Despite his wariness of the Northerner, sympathy flushed through Aang. Tokala was one of many who lost someone when the Fire Nation attacked the North. He knew from experience that they still felt those wounds keenly. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "I wish... I wish things were different. That none of that had ever happened."
Tokala's angular eyes softened. "I thank you, but... it did happen. And a pact with the aggressor of that attack for nothing other than the sake of diplomacy is not progression. It is fallacy. I would do anything to protect my Tribe. And despite what you may think of me, that includes the South."
"I'll try to remember that," he promised softly, beginning to turn away.
"I will do anything," Tokala said, grabbing him by the arm, "including make myself unlikable to you. Your emotions flash across your face like an unrolled scroll, Avatar Aang. I can see how you feel about me, but I am not your enemy. I am only an enemy of those who would seek to harm us. I beg that you remember that."
Aang pulled his arm gently from Tokala's grip. "I will."
Tokala nodded. "That is all I can ask, I suppose." He straightened, sending the mink tails on his parka fluttering, and looked around. "What brings you to the edge of town?"
"I'm... visiting the Spirit World," Aang admitted begrudgingly.
"Ah, yes," Tokala said, eyes bright with interest. "My son told me of his fortuitous encounter with your ladies, and what they were able to glean from the Southern Tribeswoman."
"Yea," Aang muttered. "Fortuitous."
Tokala raised one brow at Aang's noticeable reticence. "With any luck, you will discover the culprit of the Ambassador's death this very night."
"A vengeful Spirit."
"I know you have your doubts, but Spirits are manifestations of our world's energy. One might even consider it the consequences of the very thing we just discussed," Tokala said.
"One might," Aang said sagely, "but I'll withhold the accusations until I have something more concrete, if it's all the same to you."
Tokala smiled almost indulgently. "Of course. I bid you luck, Avatar Aang. I think, in the end, you're going to need it." He looked up at the snow, which had begun to drop gently around them. "Good night." Without another word, he turned on his heel and left.
Aang watched him walk away, thoughts gathering like storm clouds in the forefront of his mind. But he shook his head, calming the tumult of his energy before starting off again, into the dark, into the cold of the night. And despite his turmoil, it did not take long for the bright light of the Spirit World to pull him into its embrace.
Around him was the filtered gray of a winter's twilight, snow sifting softly down, and Aang drew his cloak tighter about him. He looked around, eyeing the shadows cast by the trees that surrounded the little grotto in which he stood. They were eerie, and gave him a strange feeling. Incongruous with the softness of their surroundings, the rustling leaves whispered dark secrets to one another.
Through the filtered light, he saw a sudden flash of movement. "Hello?" he called warily, steeling himself for a fight. His history with Spirits had taught him that they often struck hard and fast, and saved the questions for later. He called out again, and was met with the cry of a bird, long and lonely, the sound of miles uncounted woven through the noise.
An albatross materialized from the flurries, circling above before settling high in the branch of a nearby tree. Aang greeted it with what he hoped was an easy smile. The bird regarded him indifferently, tilting his head slowly to peer at him through one black eye.
"You're an albatross," Aang informed it. "My people used to tell stories about you." The bird did not deign to respond, but Aang continued, undeterred. "'The Wanderer', that was one of my favorite stories, growing up." His smile faded at the memory, and his shoulders slumped slightly. "I don't suppose you know who I'm looking for? A great Spirit, allegedly visiting his wrath upon a nearby village."
The bird released another cry.
"They always visit their wrath first," Aang answered agreeably. "It isn't often that they want to come just to talk. It would be nice, though."
What little rapport he had built vanished when the bird lifted his head and spread his wings, dissipating in a flurry of snow that sent gusts of wind grabbing at Aang's cloak. He looked around, eyes narrowed in suspicion.
From between the trees came the form of a man, striding on long legs. He wore loose linen pants, patched and mended, under a warm Southern Water Tribe parka. Mismatched boots covered his feet, and a hood shrouded dark eyes that seemed almost to burn. He made his way over to Aang, tall and solemn and eyes well-worn. Aang's suspicion increased with each advancing step.
"I'm Aang."
The figure stopped several feet before him, and Aang took a closer look at him. He seemed at once to be both regal and regular, the cold-eyed formality of a king of old inlaid over a traveler, long miles in the creases at the corners of his eyes. "The Avatar," he greeted in a voice like falling snow. "I am Kiviuq."
"I'm honored to meet you," Aang said, bowing.
Kiviuq eyed him with a cold indifference. "What brings you here, Avatar Aang?"
"There's a village nearby, in the mortal world, and strange things are happening there. The people are beginning to wonder if... if they've upset any Spirits."
Kiviuq said nothing, shifting, birdlike, from one foot to the other.
Aang frowned. "You're a Spirit," he continued. "I was wondering if maybe you've heard something."
"I hear many things."
"Such as?"
Kiviuq tilted his head toward Aang, once more reminiscent of a bird. "A dark secret. A broken pact."
At last, some answers. "What pact? What secret?"
The Spirit fluttered slightly, agitated, his sleeves flapping in a way that reminded Aang of bird's wings.
The little vein pulsing at Aang's temple was the only betrayal of his impatience. "I understand that you'd rather keep some things to yourself, but this is important," he explained. "There are some in the nearby village who fear that they've angered the Spirits. They believe that there's an a Spirit who's wandering around at night. That the Spirit is searching for something... or someone."
Kiviuq shifted suddenly, and Aang jumped involuntarily. The grave countenance on Kiviuq's face warped, indifference giving way to a fierce wariness; that of a wild animal on the defensive.
Aang pulled his robes tighter about him. "A man is dead. A Fire Nation man, here to negotiate a treaty between the Southern Water Tribe and the Fire Nation."
The Spirit began to circle him slowly, firm, decisive steps in the snow. "And they believe his death is the work of Spirits?" he asked softly, dangerously.
"They don't know," Aang returned, turning with the circling Spirit to keep it in his line of sight. "They suspect."
Two baleful black eyes turned to him. Moments before they had been beady, but now they seemed to simmer with unspoken anger.
"Do you know what happened to him?" Aang questioned cautiously.
Kiviuq circled closer, and Aang took a step back. The Spirit leaned forward, seemingly held aloft by nothing but a breath of wind. "We are searching for the same thing," the Spirit whispered.
"So you are the Spirit that's wandering the village at night," Aang said, straightening his spine and willing himself not to back away. "What are you looking for?"
"The answer to that question is ancient, as old as the Tribes themselves."
"I'm the bridge between our worlds," Aang reminded him. "I want to help you. If we're looking for the same thing, maybe we can help one another."
Kiviuq hissed, and Aang felt himself tensing. "Wicked," the Spirit whispered, "a sickness, a disease. A power that came into the world, thousands of years ago."
Aang frowned with confusion. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said. The change in the Spirit's demeanor unsettling him.
Kiviuq spread his arms to his sides, stretching far, far beyond him. Growing, lengthening into the knife-like wings of an albatross, and Aang stepped back in alarm. "The villagers made a promise," the Spirit intoned in a voice that rumbled within his chest. "They promised they would bury their secret dark, deep, and never speak of it, never use it, again."
"Speak of what?" Aang asked.
"Greed at its very worst," Kiviuq said as his neck elongated, his nose and face shifting, sharpening, into the dangerous curve of a black beak. "Cruelty at its most powerful. When it first came into the world, I fought against its arrival with all my strength. I wrought a path of destruction. I laid waste to their villages, their homes, their peoples. In exchange for my mercy, they promised to hide away this power, and let it fall dead, forgotten, in the annals of history. A bargain was struck. An accord."
"So, that's what you're looking for? Someone who broke the promise?"
Kiviuq towered above him now, a fierce-looking bird, ghostly white, larger than a man. He clicked his long beak once and dipped it low in what Aang recognized to be a nod. "They made a vow, as I did." He flapped his wings once, angrily, dusting Aang in a flurry of snow and air. "Keep the secret, and I will lay dormant. But I am awake now. What do you think that means for them? I have been searching, searching, and my patience grows thin."
The Spirit's anger seethed around him, a dark aura that undulated and twisted in the air. "We can help each other," Aang said again. "You said we're searching for the same thing. We can remain calm, we can figure this out without violence."
But that was the wrong thing to say, and the Spirit's massive head snapped sharply in Aang's direction, red twirling within the bottomless black of his eyes. "The accord was broken," he said. "And I will uphold the bargain." His great wings raised in the air, in preparation to take flight.
"No, wait-" Aang called, holding his hands up to stop him. "You've waited this long; you don't want to do this. There's no need for destruction- we can still solve this peacefully."
"Do you take me for a fool, Avatar Aang?" the Spirit asked, lifting his great body in the air. He glided lazily around Aang, but his voice was everywhere. "The village broke their promise, and hid it from me, then who should come along but the Avatar, begging that I show mercy?"
"That's not what this is," Aang insisted. "I only want to help!"
The bird circled higher. "You're a distraction, a shelter to keep out the coming storm. It won't be enough. They have had my mercy. Now, they face my wrath."
It was the shift in Kiviuq's body, the twist in the angle of his wings, the downward tilt of his head. Aang had a split second to move, to roll out of the way before the massive Spirit plummeted, sweeping with broad wings over the spot that Aang had stood a moment before.
He twisted out of the way of the Spirit's fierce beak, which snapped at the empty air with a force that chattered Aang's jaw. Diving into the trees that surrounded them, Aang dodged and weaved, taking advantage of the bird's inability to squeeze his body between the close-knit trunks. Without his bending, this was a fight Aang would no doubt lose. He leapt, catching a low hanging branch in both hands and quickly pulling himself up into the tangled limbs.
Stealing a moment to peer through the jumble of dark branches, he caught sight of the great Albatross, shrieking now with rage, as he ripped trunks from the ground with his great beak, shearing off thick limbs with his powerful wings. "Avatar Aang," the bird roared with fury.
Aang sank to his knees, pressing his fists together and closing his eyes. That tenuous thread, the little string that kept him tethered to the mortal world was slippery, sliding through his grasp as he tried to cross over. Behind him, more trees crashed to the ground.
"The accord will be honored! This evil will not be allowed to continue!"
The tearing of limbs and snapping of the bird's great jaws drew closer, closer, even as Aang tried to lose himself in the narrow film that separated the two worlds. His eyes were squeezed shut, his fists pressed together so tightly his knuckles were white. Close, alarmingly close, he could hear a branch being torn from a nearby tree, thin twigs whipping Aang's cheek, a stinging that brought tears to his closed eyes. Winds from the bird's wings buffeted him, and when the air settled, he could feel the great Spirit's warm breath across his stinging cheek.
"Be it here or the mortal world, Avatar Aang," Kiviuq purred, "you cannot protect them."
With a gasp, Aang plunged through the thin film that separated the two worlds, landing on his back in the hard packed snow at the outskirts of the village. He leapt to his feet, his hands going up in defense as his eyes searched wildly for the Spirit he was certain would follow. His footsteps crunched softly as he turned this way and that.
"Avatar Aang?" came a voice from behind him.
He whipped around, only to find Tokala once more, the Councilman's hands raised gently, as if calming a wild animal. "Did you follow me?" Aang demanded.
"You were alone out here. Unprotected. Besides, I want answers, too," Tokala said.
"It doesn't matter. You need to leave," Aang snapped. "There's a Spirit, he's furious-"
Tokala's eyes widened. "I was right-"
"It doesn't matter right now," Aang repeated, still looking around. "Get out of here. It's not safe."
Tokala only squared his shoulders. "You're not the only one who wants to protect these people," he said icily.
"Please leave," Aang begged.
But Tokala shook his head, going to Aang's side and drawing a long whale's tooth knife from his belt.
Just beyond them, beyond the lamp light that dimly lit the houses at the edge of town, a blotch of gray twilight begun to tear the air, a circled maw that grew wider and wider, empty nothingness. Tokala dropped into a warrior's stance, and Aang prepared himself for a fight. And soaring from that gray twilight sailed the great albatross, his wings spread wide, a shrill cry emanating from his open beak.
A/N: there's that action. Readers of the minister know how I feel about writing action scenes. Hope I did okay. There's more to come.
