Water

The Valley of Spirits: Part 2

Zuko meant to head toward Senlin Village, he really did. This was supposed to be quick—ride back to the ship, gather Lieutenant Jee and a few of the more competent crewmen, then ride for Senlin. Quick, simple, and clean. The village wasn't too far inland—he'd missed his chance to ambush the Avatar and her companions before nightfall, but as long as everything went smoothly, he could still use the darkness to his advantage.

But Zuko should have known better than to expect anything to go well. Somehow, somehow, he'd forgotten how ridiculous Uncle could be. And how impossible Jasmine was. And how the two of them in combination could stop an entire army in its tracks just by irritating them.

Even before they made it to the river, there were problems. Uncle couldn't seem to find a comfortable position in the saddle and complained about it incessantly, but whenever Zuko offered to stop, Uncle just fidgeted a little more and declared that he wouldn't want to cause any inconvenience. Right. Because it was so much more convenient to have a fat old man leaning from one side to the other, tipping the saddle with his girth and grumbling. But Zuko was in a hurry, and he wasn't in the mood for games. If it meant saving even a few minutes' time, he'd take Uncle at his word. At least Jasmine wasn't causing much trouble.

But then they approached the river. Zuko urged Jasmine faster and faster. If they were moving fast enough, maybe Jasmine wouldn't notice the water until they were partway across.

Zuko wasn't that lucky.

They hit the water at full speed and Jasmine let out an unearthly shriek, then reared back on his hind legs. It took all of Zuko's strength to hang onto the reins and keep himself from sliding backward off the saddle, but Uncle wasn't quick enough. The old man slipped, creating an impressive splash when he landed in the river.

Zuko swore aloud and dragged on the reins to pull Jasmine back under control. It would be just his luck to rescue Uncle from a bunch of earthbenders only to have him trampled by one of their own komodo rhinos.

Still seated in the water, Uncle chuckled and raised a small flame over his head to illuminate the river. "If you wished to make a comment on my hygiene, nephew, you might have waited until we were back to the ship. I'm afraid a dip in a river will do very little to wash away the scent of the hot springs."

Zuko swore again and yanked Jasmine's head to the right, directing the beast's prancing, clawed feet away from Uncle's legs. "That's not—"

Jasmine tossed his head and snorted, jerking hard enough to send a spurt of water clear up to Zuko's shoulder. Grumbling under his breath, Zuko turned the creature back onto the shore and dismounted.

"That's not what I was trying to do," he snapped at Uncle, who still smiled blithely up at him from the river. "This worthless beast hates the water."

"Does he?" Uncle pushed himself to his feet, his borrowed shirt hanging even wider open now that it was dripping wet. "How did you manage to come this way before if he is so averse to water?"

Zuko scowled. "I—" he stopped himself. His face heated at the thought of the stupid baby-talk he'd had to use to coax Jasmine into the water. He'd rather drown than explain that to Uncle. "Just—" He waved vaguely across the river. "Cross. You can't get more wet than you are already. I'll worry about Jasmine."

Uncle gave a strange look before he obliged, and Zuko let out a slow breath. If there was another way—any other way to get back to the ship in time, he would have taken it in an instant. He'd leave Jasmine behind and walk the rest of the way if he didn't know that it would take a full day to cover the distance on foot. Longer if he wanted Uncle to come too.

He could feel the old man's gaze on his back as he gathered up the handfuls of grass he would need to lure Jasmine across the river. Damn it. It worked well enough last time, but last time, Uncle wasn't here to stare like Zuko was some sort of exotic bird.

He thrust the clump of grass at Jasmine's snout and grabbed onto the reins. "Come on," he barked. "You've wasted enough time as it is. We're going back to the ship now."

Jasmine snorted at him and snapped at the handful of grass. Zuko jerked back just in time to spare himself a bite. Right. Jasmine was snappy at the best of times.

Uncle's gaze still weighed on his back, and Zuko's jaw clenched. He would not use that soft, wheedling tone again. Not in front of Uncle. Not even if the river was loud enough to cover the sound of his voice. Baby talk and coaxing were not the proper response for a prince dealing with a water-shy komodo rhino.

So he barked orders and tugged and swore and yanked the grass out of Jasmine's reach every time the beast tried to snatch it, and slowly, jerkily, they made it into the river. Jasmine was only three strides into the water when Zuko ran out of grass, and it took a great deal more shouting and swearing and pulling before Jasmine took another step forward. Then the blasted animal decided to charge, and Zuko had to dive out of the way to keep from being gored in its frenzy to get out of the water.

Uncle caught the reins and hauled Jasmine to a stop on the far bank. "Unconventional methods, Prince Zuko," he called back across the water. "But I applaud your originality."

Grumbling, Zuko clambered back to his feet, dripping from head to toe, and marched—no, sloshed—his way to the bank.

"Shut up." Zuko snatched the reins and swung up into the saddle. He held a hand out for Uncle. "Let's just get back to the ship."


Sokka wasn't sure where that great big, spotty, crooked-toothed beast had taken him, but it was swampy here. And gross. And it smelled. He tried breathing through his mouth, but that was worse than smelling it. He could taste the swampiness when he breathed through his mouth. Blech. It was almost like spoiled meat.

"See, Aang?" he shouted to a tree, hoping that his voice would carry far enough that Aang could hear him and find him. "Spirits aren't that great. It's all big toothy things trying to eat people and they can't even do that right." Although, on second thought, maybe Hei Bai had eaten him. That would explain the smell.

Trudging toward what looked like dry land, he kept grumbling to himself. This whole thing was stupid. He'd warned Katara and Aang that it was a dumb idea to mess with the spirits—not that he'd really believed that there were such a thing when they started out the evening—and while Hei Bai's existence had proven him wrong on the one point, this proved him right on the other. Messing with the spirits was dumb. He was either kidnapped or eaten, all thanks to their incessant need to fix every little thing that was wrong with the world. It was probably an Avatar thing. That was all well and good—it was kind of their job to stick their noses in other people's business, but would it really kill them to wait until they had a little idea of what they were doing?

Well, it didn't matter. Sokka was not going to stick around here, in this nasty, swampy hole—stomach—whatever it was. He was going back to the village, collecting Aang and Katara, and then they were all leaving. Immediately. He would tie them both to the saddle if he needed to.

The raised patch of dry ground should be getting closer, but the farther he walked, the farther away it seemed to get. What was with this place? Did giant people-eating spirits have endless stomachs or something?

Fine. That wasn't the right way to go anyway, he just thought that it would be easier to walk on dry land. But the spirit had taken him west from the village—that meant that if he wanted to get back, he needed to go east. He squinted up at the sky, trying to decide if the hazy yellowish light was coming more from the right or the left. Maybe the left? That probably meant that left was west, since it had been evening before he got sucked into this stinky pit of suck. Although now that he looked a little closer, maybe the light was brighter from the right. He frowned and looked down. His shadow was stronger on his left side—no, his right. No, it was stronger behind him. Definitely behind him. Before the light had a chance to move again, he turned decisively in his tracks and started marching back the way he'd come.

Take that, stink-hole. You have to start pretty early in the morning to trick Sokka of the Southern Water Tribe.


The old woman had a room prepared for her. Well, not just her. There was a narrow bed on either side of the door and a sleeping mat on the floor between them—the old woman and her husband had been ready for all three of them. Katara tried to ignore the prickling in her eyes and hugged Momo a little tighter. The lemur gave a small squawk of protest but remained curled up in her arms, almost as if he sensed her loneliness.

Katara crawled into bed and Momo curled up on her stomach. She stared up at the ceiling. It was too quiet here. She was used to hearing Sokka's mumbling and snoring from the next sleeping bag—aside from the Haishui rig, she couldn't remember a single night without it. And even then, she hadn't actually gone to bed alone. The women's barracks had been plenty noisy, and Tae Yun refused to let Katara stray more than a few feet away. It was nothing like this. Even with Momo sleeping on her stomach, the solitude was almost crushing.

Katara slept, but not well, and not long. The sky was still black when she woke and crept out the door, not particularly well-rested, but unable to fall back asleep. Momo trotted along after her, giving a series of curious chirps until she found a stream just past the edge of the village. Katara drew a thick rope of water to her and scowling, launched it at the shadowy outline of a tree. She couldn't think of any way to help or find the boys, but she could still waterbend.

The sky remained black as she whirled through the forms she'd already learned, the smoothness of the motions coming a bit more naturally than before. She sent wave after wave lashing at the trees, imagining them all as Fire Nation soldiers. And when her pulse was racing, her lungs protesting the prolonged effort of the imaginary fight, she fell back into drilling the next form she'd memorized from her scroll. Tendrils of water thickened into rope-like masses, and as the sky began to fade from black to indigo to faint blue-gray, Katara worked through slight variation after slight variation until her stance and motions finally began to meld into one.

She was nearly ready to work through her old forms again when a voice from behind her broke through the quiet.

"It's rather early to be fighting the forest, don't you think?"

Katara yelped and the water rope burst apart, splattering across her face and down the front of her tunic.

The old woman chuckled. "I thought I might find you out here somewhere, but the state of the bushes is a bit of a surprise."

Katara cast a sheepish look at the twigs and leaves she'd severed and wrung the water out of her clothes. "I couldn't sleep. I thought practicing would be better than doing nothing."

"Has it helped?"

Katara shrugged. "I'd rather be out looking for them, but I don't know where to start." She kicked at a rotted stump. That was only half true. Hei Bai was the key—it had taken the boys, it could bring them back. The problem was that Katara didn't know where to find Hei Bai. She'd run through the problem until she started to give herself a headache—Hei Bai lived in the Spirit World. Hei Bai had the boys. That meant that the boys—if Hei Bai hadn't eaten them—were in the Spirit World. And according to the villagers, the space between the Spirit World and the physical only opened at sunset. That meant that Katara couldn't get the boys back until sunset. That was fine. If she had a good enough plan, she could bring the boys back at sunset and they'd all move on from this spooky, spirit-infested town. But she couldn't come up with a plan if she couldn't learn any more about Hei Bai. And she couldn't learn any more about Hei Bai until it came back at sunset.

The old woman picked her way through a few shredded bushes and leaned against a crooked tree. "Do you have any ideas?"

Katara shrugged as Momo, apparently realizing that no more waterbending would be happening for a while, launched himself at her shoulder. "Not really."

"Humor an old lady. Any idea is better than none at all."

Shifting her weight, Katara disentangled Momo's little fist from her hair. "Well," she began slowly, "I think Hei Bai is taking people somewhere in the Spirit World." The other alternative didn't bear thinking about. She felt helpless enough without considering the possibility that the boys might be gone. "I think that if I knew how to stop Hei Bai, I could get them back."

The old woman studied her. "Do you?" Her tone was almost suspiciously nonchalant.

Katara nodded. "I'm not just going to give up because they're in the Spirit World. I need to get them back, Miss—" She faltered. If the old woman had introduced herself last night, Katara could no longer remember it.

"Just Nuwa." The old woman's gaze was surprisingly sharp, just like Gran-Gran's always was when Sokka and Katara had done something that they'd be in trouble for later. "You seem rather certain, young lady."

She looked back at Nuwa, confused. "Of course I am. That's my brother and my friend. I have to get them back."

Nuwa studied her, wrinkled forehead creasing cryptically. Katara shifted a little uncomfortably. This was weird. She'd never met anyone who could muster an unreadable expression quite like this. Anyone aside from Gran-Gran, at least.

But then the old woman's cryptic expression disappeared under an animated smile, and she popped to her feet, her movements showing no sign of her age. "Come along, dear. We have some strategizing to do."


Zuko still meant to head back to Senlin. From what he remembered of the map, there was a road that led straight from the decrepit little harbor where his ship was moored to the village. Better yet, there was a bridge along that road. Jasmine wouldn't have to be coaxed and prodded across the river, and it wouldn't take half the crew to drag Ginger out.

He meant to head toward Senlin. It was still dark—he couldn't slow down long enough to judge the time by the position of the stars, but it couldn't be too late. If they rode hard, they could make it to the village by daybreak. He refused to consider the alternative.

But when they finally made it back to the ship, Uncle insisted on a change of clothes, and Zuko couldn't bring himself to argue when he caught another glimpse of the too-long trousers and the too-tight undershirt. Besides, Zuko's own boots were soaked through. As long as they were here, he could spare a minute to change his boots while Uncle made himself presentable.

But Lieutenant Jee was waiting up for them, and when he saw the chains on Uncle's wrists, he swore aloud, glaring daggers in Zuko's direction.

It's not my fault he looks like that, Zuko wanted to scream. It was Uncle's fault for getting caught in the first place. And Jasmine's fault for soaking them both. And Jee's fault for taking the clothes back to the ship instead of loading them into Jasmine's saddlebags. Anyone with sense should have realized that Uncle would need clothes when Zuko caught up with his captors. Jee should have thought far enough ahead to accommodate for that.

But a high, creeping voice in his ear reminded him that Jee was merely a lieutenant. Not a very good one at that, if his assignment to this ship were any indication. It wasZuko'sresponsibility to see that the correct orders were given, that the ship stayed on course, that all the men performed their duties. It was Zuko's job to make sure that this sort of nonsense didn't happen in the first place.

Zuko didn't admit that, not aloud. Instead, he ordered the Lieutenant to stand down—Uncle was fine. The engineers could cut off the shackles, and it would be like none of this ever happened. That earned him an even fouler glare from one of the engineers, but Zuko didn't care. He stormed off to his cabin, feet squelching in his boots with every step.

He tried not to think about how close he'd come to earning that derision—how dangerously late he'd come to rescue Uncle. He'd managed it. Maybe Zuko had barely managed to kick the boulder aside before it crushed Uncle's hands, but he'd brought the old man back unscathed. Of course, that wouldn't be enough for his crew if they knew the whole truth. They were hostile enough toward Zuko at the best of times. Letting them know how narrowly he'd avoided disaster could only make it worse.

Perching on the edge of his bunk, Zuko peeled off his dripping boots and socks—his feet were clammy and cold from the moisture, and the hems of his trousers were still soaked, but there wasn't any time to waste. Every moment he was here brought sunrise nearer, and sunrise—when it came—would mean the end of his plan. So he threw on a dry pair of socks and a fresh pair of boots—a set he'd nearly outgrown now, but they were sturdy and dry, and that was all that mattered. Once he got the Avatar and the airbending monk back to Father, he wouldn't have to worry about things like too-tight boots or wading through rivers to appease ornery komodo rhinos. He would be home. Everything would be right again if he could just get home.

After overturning the discarded pair of boots to dry over an air vent, he tramped back to the deck, and was met with chaos.

Jasmine was bucking against his harness while three of the lower-ranking crewmen tried to drag him into the hold. Uncle still wore the ridiculous Earth Kingdom getup and was sitting—quite contentedly—on the deck while an engineer examined his shackles. And Jee stood off to the side, gossiping like an old woman with one of the younger officers.

Zuko's hands clenched into fists. He meant to head for Senlin Village. He had to get there before sunrise. If he didn't—if his search had to drag on much longer—his stomach lurched. No. He was going to capture the girl. And he was going to do it tonight. No amount of nonsense was going to stop him, not when he was this close.

Uncle laughed at something the engineer said, and Jee made a horribly rude gesture, and the other officer laughed. Zuko's vision narrowed, and red flashed at the corners of his eyes.

"That is enough!" he roared, flames shooting from his fists. "I will not tolerate any more insubordination from any of you." Seven pairs of eyes turned his way. "We are capturing the Avatar tonight, and I don't care what it takes." He whirled on the crewmen attempting to manhandle Jasmine. "Leave Jasmine here and bring the other three up if that isn't too difficult for you." He turned to Jee. "And you. I ordered you to organize the search party before I left. Get them here now." A final withering glare went Uncle's direction. "And for Agni's sake, if you can't get the chains off, at least put some real clothes on. You fought trained earthbenders wearing shackles, I think you can handle a few peasant children that way too."

The usual irritation in Jee's expression turned to outright disgust, and the other crewmen's expressions were no friendlier. Too bad for them. Zuko was not their friend. He had already tolerated far too much of their disrespect—too many music nights with Uncle, too many hungover mornings after music night, too many Pai Sho games while the men were still on duty. Zuko was too soft on them. He always had been. No more. He was going home, one way or another, and he couldn't afford that softness, that weakness anymore.

"Go!" Zuko barked. "That's an order."

Uncle spoke first, his gaze even and steely, his voice steady. "Prince Zuko. Senlin Village is still several hours from here."

"It's ten miles!" Zuko roared, sparks flying from his fingertips. "That's barely half an hour by komodo rhino."

"Ten miles of narrow footpaths and jagged terrain," Uncle said. "The shortest path passes through a strip of nearly impassible cliffs and ravines. There is a road that may be used by komodo rhinos that goes around the cliffs, but it is twenty miles longer." His eyes narrowed a fraction. "It is late, Prince Zuko. The sun will rise shortly, and farming villages like Senlin rise early."

Desperation welled up in his chest. "So?" Zuko demanded. "This is still the best chance we've had. If we leave now, we can still capture the Avatar before sh—before the Avatar's group wakes."

"Think, Prince Zuko," Uncle demanded, rising to his feet. Even with the absurd Earth Kingdom outfit, he still managed to hold himself with a surprising amount of dignity. "How long will thirty miles of hard riding take you? How will you find the Avatar once you are there? Do you plan to knock on every door and wake the entire village? Even in a small village, the Avatar could be anywhere. If you must wake the villagers to find your target, you will lose every advantage you still hold."

"I can't give up this easily, Uncle!" His fingernails bit so deeply into his palms that he wouldn't be surprised if blood started to ooze out. "Only a coward would let this opportunity pass!"

Uncle shook his head, and Lieutenant Jee stepped forward. "How many brave men do you know who would be willing to lie down their lives for a doomed mission, Prince Zuko? Did Kyoshi Island teach you nothing? Four men and four komodo rhinos may be a match for the Avatar and his friends, but don't forget how quickly the balance tips out of our favor in the Earth Kingdom."

The men who had been struggling with Jasmine resumed their efforts at shoving the stubborn beast into the hold, and Zuko's vision flashed red again. No. This was supposed to be it. This was meant to be the night when he captured the Avatar, when he brought the Avatar back to the ship in chains, the monk at her side, and the Water Tribe buffoon as a bonus—a souvenir of sorts for Father. This was supposed to be where it ended. Zuko's years of fruitless searching—his constant travel was supposed to end tonight. He was supposed to be heading home.

But instead, he stood on the deck of his battered, second-rate, second-hand ship, in too-tight boots and still-dripping trousers, staring as three of his men fought to wrestle his too-aggressive and too-cowardly komodo rhino back into its stall. A painful tightness gripped around his chest. It wasn't supposed to be like this. He was a prince, for Agni's sake, the crown prince of the Fire Nation. He was meant to have the best crew, the best mounts, the best ship, but he had none of it. He shouldn't have to rely on the cover of night to capture the Avatar—he should have the full might of the Fire Nation Navy at his back in his quest to capture their most dangerous enemy.

But instead, he was alone.


"Any tea for you, dear?" Nuwa called from the kitchen. "I always find that a good cup of tea is a great help when I need to think."

Katara dragged her eyes away from the clusters of dried flowers and leaves hanging from the rafters. There was a greater variety of plant life in the old woman's ceiling than she'd seen in her entire life at the South Pole. "Um." She wondered if Nuwa would have any of the varieties that Gran-Gran used to make for her. Probably not. "I guess so."

There was some clattering from the other room and after a few minutes, Nuwa emerged with a tray balanced on one hand.

"Sit, sit." Nuwa fluttered a hand toward the table. "Spirits, dear girl, you look ready to hop out of your own skin."

Katara fidgeted a bit. That wasn't her fault. It was all those weird, knowing looks that Nuwa kept shooting her way, like the old woman could see straight into her mind. How was she supposed to relax when her friends were missing, and a strange old lady seemed bent on reading her thoughts?

She perched on the very edge of her chair and hesitantly accepted a cup from Nuwa. "So—" she began, staring at the rafters again. Anything to keep that piercing gaze at bay. "Are you an herbalist?" She'd heard of those before. The Southern Water Tribe didn't have much use for anything of the sort, since all their remedies came from seaweed extracts and various animal fats, but Gran-Gran had told her stories about the Earth Kingdom's herbalists once or twice.

"Oh, no. I've never had the patience for plain-looking plants." Nuwa settled back in her chair, brownish eyes fixed on Katara. "I sell flowers. But by happy coincidence, a few of my favorites do have medicinal qualities. Or make exceptional tea. Now." Nuwa thumped her cup down. "On to more important matters. Your friends."

Katara sat a little straighter and nodded eagerly.

"You believe you can retrieve them from the Spirit World?"

Katara hesitated. She did believe it. She ought to be able to bring them back. She was the Avatar, after all. "Yes?" Her voice came out a little more uncertain than she would have liked. "I mean, it won't be easy. But if they crossed into the Spirit World, they should be able to cross back to our world again, right?"

Nuwa pursed her lips and tapped a finger against her chin. "Perhaps. You don't see any difficulty in it?"

"I—" Katara stopped. Wait. Did Nuwa suspect her? Was that what all the odd looks were for? "Why? Why are you asking?"

"Have you, by any chance, visited Omashu?" Nuwa carried on, seeming not to have heard the questions. "I hear it is a lovely place. An old friend of mine lives there. I hope to visit him someday."

Omashu? An old friend—

"King Bumi?" Katara asked, incredulous.

A smile lit up the old woman's face. "I thought so." She took a long sip of her tea.

Oh, no. She knew. Nuwa knew. And if she knew, then her husband probably knew, and her friends, and her husband's friends, and—

"Relax, dear. I know the value of a well-kept secret. In this case especially." Nuwa ran a gnarled finger around the rim of her cup. "I simply want to know what—skills we might have to work with."

Katara's face heated anyway. So much for her secret.

Nuwa set her cup down and leaned forward. "Now. If what my friend tells me is correct, your young monk friend may very well have as good a chance finding his way back alone—" she gave Katara a meaningful look. "—as you would have trying to retrieve him. But of course there is the other boy—"

"Sokka," Katara interjected.

"Yes. And he will need help from one or the other of you in order to return."

Slowly, Katara nodded. "So—if Aang's trying to get back, and I'm trying to get them out from this side—"

"Your chances would seem far greater than if either of you were trying it alone, wouldn't they?"

Frowning, Katara stared at the cup in her hands, at the silvery wisps of steam swirling off the surface of the tea. "I guess so. But I still don't know what to do to help them." She flicked her hand to the side just to watch the liquid follow her movement. "Maybe if I knew what Hei Bai wanted—"

"Ah." Nuwa leaned back, looking pleased. "That may be exactly the right question to ask. The spirits are not so different from us."

Katara raised an eyebrow. "How so?"

"They have wants and needs. Emotions. Connections." She paused to point a knobby finger at Katara. "Spirits may not align to our logic, but all they do has a reason. And because their world is merely another layer on top of ours, divided by a bridge—"

"The Avatar," Katara interrupted quietly.

An almost mischievous twinkle appeared in the old woman's eyes. "Yes. The Avatar. The trouble with spirits is that because their world is invisible to us, we cannot always see their motives clearly."

"So where do I start? If the—the bridge only opens at sunset—" Katara trailed off. Was there supposed to be some way for her to open the Spirit World voluntarily? Or were there restrictions? Did she have to wait until sunset to connect with the Spirit World? And how would she do that anyway?

"Hmm. Tussles with the spirits don't happen often, but when they do, the world does not forget easily. There are some marks—some scars—that transcend generations." She gave a cryptic smile again. "Human memory is a fickle thing. Stories survive far longer than any of us, but the truth is not always so long-lived."

Katara frowned again. She knew plenty of stories about the spirits. Those were always Gran-Gran's favorites. The stories of the great wolf spirits who guided hunters on their journeys, penguin spirits who stole whole traps full of fish if improper offerings were made, ancestral spirits who danced in the sky as part of the aurora on the coldest nights—they'd been with her for her entire childhood. But Gran-Gran never told her and Sokka stories about how to deal with angry spirits. And now that she was half a world away trying to do just that, it struck Katara as a rather serious oversight.

"So where am I supposed to get these stories about how to defeat angry, brother-stealing spirits?"

The old woman smiled, tapping a finger against her chin. "I have just the thing." She bustled to a shelf across the room, searched a bit, and returned to present Katara with a narrow volume. "Stories—histories of the spirits in the Senlin Valley."

Katara ran a finger along the embossed cover and gave Nuwa a questioning look. "But I thought you said—"

"That stories are not the truth. Yes." Nuwa settled across from her. "But the truth isn't lost when the story is written. It's still there. Fragmented and hidden, usually, but the truth is there." Her smile broadened and she nudged Katara. "What are you waiting for? Even the world's great spirit bridge needs to prepare."


Sokka had been walking east for hours. Possibly days, even. It was hard to keep track of time in this mucky pit of slime and moss and gross. But for all the walking, he'd made very little progress. His first destination was a stump on the other side of a murky pool of water—it took an hour to cross the pool, which couldn't have been much wider than Appa's saddle. Then he set his sights on a moss-covered knoll protruding from the water. That took another hour. This place was ridiculous. Really, he should start setting more demanding goals for himself if everything took an hour regardless of the distance.

He whacked a tree with his club to leave a dent as a marker for himself and looked back the way he'd come. Great. Everything behind him looked exactly the same as what was in front of him. Even the dent in the sodden, half rotten tree was the same. It was like he was standing in the surface of a mirror, the world perfectly reflected on either side of him.

With a groan, Sokka swung his club again. He wasn't making any progress, and whacking things probably didn't help matters, but it didn't hurt either, and it felt good to do something. Even if that something meant pummeling a dead branch.

After the third swing, the branch broke, but Sokka had put too much force into the strike, and he toppled forward with a yell. A manly yell. His voice absolutely did not crack the instant before he landed in the mud.

Glowering and grumbling, he pushed himself up to his hands and knees. Gross. Some of the mud had gotten into his mouth, and it tasted worse than the air smelled. That shouldn't even be possible. He gagged and spat out the nasty greenish-brown slime. Sokka wasn't a priss and a neat freak like Katara, but this—this was revolting. And he was covered in the stuff.

He was about to stand when he blinked the last of the murky haze out of his eyes. Somehow, the swamp looked—different from down here. What? Still on his hands and knees, he spun around the muck. Every direction he turned, the swamp looked different. Not like the weird mirror-effect from before. Good. Maybe he could make some real progress now that the swamp wasn't trying its damnedest to keep him trapped.

Sokka hopped to his feet, and the world closed in around him until everything was the same no matter which way he turned. That—that shouldn't be happening. He crouched, and the world opened up again. He stood, and it turned back to a kaleidoscope of the same scenery repeated over and over again. Crouched, and there was a tree he hadn't seen before, and an almost human-shaped stump at the horizon. There was a horizon. That alone was a novelty for this place.

"Holy flying ice-bat balls." It came out almost as a yell, but Sokka didn't care. This swamp was awful. He hoped somebody heard his opinion on the matter. "You've got to be kidding me, Hei Bai. How did you fit an entire fucking continent in your stomach?"

A burbling came from somewhere to his left, and a lumpy brownish creature—something a bit like a toad, if a toad had massive, branching antlers and a mouthful of nightmarishly human teeth—poked its head out of the slime. "Language," it said, its voice a strange sort of gurgling hiss.

Sokka's jaw dropped and he shook his head a little. But the thing was still there, still staring at him. "What? You don't want me swearing? I can't say ice-bat balls?"

The—thing—blinked at him. "No," it gurgled. "Sssstomach." Then as quickly as it had appeared, the creature submerged again, its drab brownish skin vanishing into the murk almost before the surface closed over its head.

Sokka stared at the place where the creature had disappeared, watching the small stream of bubbles slow, then stop entirely. What? He reached up to rub his eyes, then stopped himself when he remembered that his hands were coated in swampy slime. What? A shiver ran up his spine and he set his jaw. That settled things. He had to get out of here. Fast.


Katara spent hours poring over the little book while Nuwa puttered around the house, humming to herself and clattering tiles on some sort of gameboard in the far corner. Katara did her best to block out the sound. This was what mattered. Learning about the spirits of the Senlin Valley so she could bring Sokka and Aang back was the only thing that mattered.

There were tales of river guardians and spirits that seemed to live exclusively in tiny, confined spaces—an old widow's teapot, in one case—and still others that seemed only exist to cause humans minor inconveniences. One particularly malicious-looking spirit, a toad-like creature with antlers and a frighteningly human set of teeth, was said to steal socks from clotheslines, but only on the equinox, and only when the socks were hung by their toes. That seemed weird. But a few pages later, the book told her a story of how a swarm of firefly-like spirits had descended on the village and swapped every newborn child with the one next door, and the villagers—not wanting to anger the spirits—had simply accepted the change and raised the strange children as their own. That seemed weirder.

Katara really hoped that that was what Nuwa meant when she said that stories didn't always tell the truth.

She read about monkey spirits and a willow tree said to contain the spirit of a long-dead warrior and a round formation of rocks outside the village that was supposedly the nest of an eagle spirit larger than a house. Every bit of it was strange, and none of it was helpful.

Or at least none of it was helpful until she turned to the page detailing the history of the guardian of the northern Senlin Forest. The part of the forest that had been reduced to ash. The illustration in rust-colored ink bore little resemblance to the beast she had seen last, but the more she read about it—the spirit's fierce protectiveness, its massive size, its immense strength—the more it began to fit together in her mind. Spirits weren't bound to the rules of the physical world, so if this one had a particular affinity for that part of the forest and had to see its destruction—Katara could hardly think of a better reason for a spirit to transform itself into a horrifying beast. It was a start, at least.

There was probably a ritual for this sort of thing. A ceremony to appease an angry forest spirit, something involving prayers and offerings, but Nuwa's book didn't offer any insights, nor did the rest of the villagers seem to understand what Katara was prattling about when she tried to explain why the forest spirit was destroying their homes and kidnapping their people.

Still, she prepared herself as much as seemed humanly possible. She gathered an entire basket of acorns while Nuwa collected an assortment of other seeds from the unscorched parts of the woods, and now, as the sun was setting, Katara stood alone at the village gates, a basket looped over either arm. It probably wasn't a conventional spirit offering, but without knowledge of the proper ceremonies or rituals or prayers, it was the best she could do. An assurance that, though they weren't to blame for the forest's destruction, the villagers would do all they could to restore it to its former glory. It would take years, but eventually Hei Bai would have its home back. Katara only hoped that that would be enough.

She squinted into the setting sun, murmuring, "Please work, please work, please work," over and over and over. The spirit couldn't harm her. That was the strongest reassurance she had right now, and it didn't do much to make her feel better. She needed to get the boys back, that was the part that still worried her. If she was right about the spirit, she shouldn't have any trouble releasing its hold on the village. Proper offering or not, she could prove that the forest wasn't gone for good. She could get the villagers to cooperate, to start replanting the forest if necessary. What else could Hei Bai possibly want? But that didn't guarantee that the spirit would release all its victims. And if it didn't—

Katara shook herself. Pessimism was not helpful. Right now, she had to worry about stopping Hei Bai. And if stopping Hei Bai wasn't enough, she would figure out the rest later. The solstice was still a day or two away. And if the spirit had already been crossing into the physical world for days, that meant that she should have plenty more chances to get the boys back. If this didn't work, at least. But it was going to work. It had to.

The sky faded from a pale rosy color to orange to a deep shade of violet as the sun sunk below the horizon. It was quiet. Birds chirped somewhere in the forest, but the whole village had already retreated to the safety of the town hall, and there was little to indicate that this would be anything but a peaceful night.

But then the quiet dropped away to complete silence—the birds went still, as did the air and the trees. An unearthly cry split the air and Katara tightened her grip on her baskets.

Hei Bai thundered its way down the road from the depths of the still-standing forest where it had vanished last night, every one of its steps shaking the ground.

"Hei Bai!" she shouted when it was near enough. The spirit kept coming, charging as if to run her down. She steeled herself and strengthened her stance. "Guardian of the Senlin Forest. I know why you're here!"

Hei Bai slowed before her, snarling, with its massive, sharp teeth bared. Katara tried not to flinch when it swiped at her with a huge, sharp claw the way it had done last night—again, she felt the rush of wind pass straight through her middle as though she weren't even there. It let out something like a howl of rage.

"You're angry about what happened to your home." She thought of her own village, the rows of tents and igloos enclosed by a crude wall of snow and ice. She remembered the hurt and the rage she'd felt the first time she saw smoke rising from her own home. "I know what that's like." Her voice dropped a little.

A gust of warm, moist—and putrid wind hit her face. Ugh, did all spirits have bad breath? Or was it just the angry, shape-shifting, panda-colored ones? Her nose wrinkled and her eyes watered, but she stood her ground. The spirit was watching her, listening. Or at least she hoped it was.

"My home was nearly destroyed when I was little." She lowered the baskets to the ground and gingerly pushed them forward. "Just like yours. But my people rebuilt. We lost things, and my home will never be the same as it once was, but it isn't gone. And neither is yours." The spirit snorted at her, releasing another warm, stinking gust. Katara held what she could of her last breath of fresh air and motioned to the baskets. "This village is trying to help you. They didn't burn down your forest, but they are willing to help restore it."

Hei Bai let out another puff, but it wasn't moving anymore—it wasn't trying to attack or to come any closer to the houses that were still standing.

"Leave these people alone," she continued, her voice firm and steady. "Please. You've taken too many of their homes already. They can't help bring your forest back if they're this afraid for their own lives."

"Katara!" An orange and yellow blob came hurtling at her from the side and she turned to defend herself, only to end up flat on her backside with Aang's arms wrapped tight around her middle.

"Aang?" She hugged him back for a brief moment before wriggling out of his grasp and clambering to her feet. "Where have you been? Where's Sokka?"

"I don't know. Haven't seen him. Katara, I know who Hei Bai is! I know why he's been attacking—"

Katara blinked at Aang, then at the huge black and white spirit staring down at them. "Yeah, Aang. I figured that out too."

Aang followed her gaze back to the spirit and his eyes widened. Hei Bai let out a low, groaning sound, and there was a shift—Katara couldn't exactly tell how it happened, but one moment she was staring at the elongated, smooth-skinned spirit creature that she had come to know as the Hei Bai, and the next, an equally huge but decidedly less menacing-looking panda stood in its place. She let out a breath and felt the corners of her mouth tip upward. It had worked.

Aang glanced from the spirit to Katara and back again. "Whoa. You stopped it already?"

The spirit hadn't moved. Katara frowned. "I think so. I don't know. I kind of expected it to—leave."

"Huh." Aang hopped over the baskets, and Hei Bai stared passively at him. "Excuse me, Hei Bai, is there anything else we need to do?"

"I don't think it's going to answer—"

Seemingly in response, the spirit reached its paw forward—its claws were no less intimidating in panda form—and nudged one of the baskets. It snorted at Aang, the resulting burst of warmth making his tunic flutter.

"Um." Aang scratched his head. "I'm not sure what that means." He looked back at Katara for support.

The spirit turned its big black eyes on Katara and she hesitated. "Do—do you want us to start replanting now?"

The spirit rumbled—Katara wasn't certain, but she suspected that that was meant to be an assent.

She shrugged helplessly at Aang. "I told it that the forest would grow back. I guess it wants us to keep that promise."


Between the two of them, Aang on his glider and Katara on Appa, the baskets were emptied in a matter of minutes. It wouldn't be enough to restore the whole forest, but it was a start. That had to be better than nothing.

When they returned, baskets empty, to the village gates, Hei Bai was already gone, the sun vanished below the horizon. Nuwa greeted them both with warm, grandmotherly hugs and cheerful chatter when they landed while her husband smiled, lantern in hand.

"You should have seen the Spirit World, Katara. It's so weird—it's like our world, but things don't work the same. I couldn't airbend. And there were times when I could see our world—I saw you a couple of times, and I tried to talk to you, but I guess you couldn't hear me. Do you think that's what ghosts are like?"

Katara was only half-listening to Aang—her attention was on the forest. Come back, Sokka. Please, please come back.

"The Spirit World is a curious place, young man," Nuwa said. "You would do well to be cautious before venturing there in the future." A smile crept over her lined face. "The creatures there might try to steal your socks."

There was rustling in the undergrowth, and Katara perked up when she saw a line of people emerging from the darkness and nothingness at the edge of the village.

"Sokka!" she shouted when she spotted him and sprinted to meet him. He didn't always welcome her hugs—it wasn't manly enough, apparently—but this time, he threw his arms around her with an equal amount of gusto. "I missed you," she said, squeezing him and burying her face in his shoulder. Oh no. That was a mistake. He smelled awful. "Ugh, Sokka. What happened? You were only gone for a day. Don't you bathe?"

"Katara." Sokka's tone was uncharacteristically grave. "We're not messing with the Spirit World ever again. That place stinks."

Katara made a face and pushed away from him, pinching her nose shut. "Gross. Next time we find a lake, I'm splashing you until that smell washes out."

"Hey, that's—"

"Guys!" Aang jogged over to them, beaming. Behind him, the villagers were joyfully reuniting with the others who had emerged along with Sokka—Katara noticed that a few of them were subtly fanning the Spirit World smell away from their faces. "This is great! We're all back together and Appa's rested—we can get going right away!"

Katara turned. "What do you mean?"

Sokka crossed his arms and came to stand beside her. "Yeah, Aang. It's night. As in, I've been awake for more than twenty-four hours, and I am not going anywhere until I get a solid fourteen hours of sleep."

Katara rolled her eyes and elbowed him in the side. "Lazy."

"I saw Avatar Roku's dragon," Aang said earnestly. "There's a temple he wants me to visit on the solstice." He looked to Katara for support. "I think Roku wants to talk to us."

She brightened. As spirits went, one of their previous incarnations had to be more helpful and more pleasant than Hei Bai. "Great! The solstice hasn't started yet. That still gives us some time."

Sokka was less optimistic. He rubbed his chin and narrowed his eyes.

Spirits, the stench was still overpowering.

"How far away is this temple you speak of?" Sokka asked.

"Not too far," Aang bounced on the balls of his feet, clearly eager to move, to start their journey again. "We'll be able to get there in plenty of time if we hurry."

Under the eagerness, there was something else—a slight edge of apprehension in his voice. Katara frowned. He was hiding something.

"Aang—where exactly is the temple Avatar Roku wants us to visit?"

"It's—" Aang cut off, looking around as though searching for something. "Hey, Katara, where has Momo been? I haven't seen him since I got back."

Sokka stepped forward and grabbed Aang by the shoulders. "Uh-uh, Aang. No avoiding the question. Where is the temple?" He searched Aang's face. "It's not south of here, is it? Because this trip is taking way too much time the way it is. If we slow down at all, you know Zuko is going to catch up with us."

Aang fiddled with his staff. "No, it's not that far out of our way."

"So what's the problem?" Sokka pried.

"It's—" Aang glanced at Katara again. "The temple is on Crescent Island."

A pause—he looked hopeful, as though they might guess at his hidden meaning if he just smiled enough.

But after a moment, Aang gave in. "That's in the Fire Nation."


Author's Note:

Wanna know what hubris looks like? This. Chapter 11 and 12 of this fic.

When I was first drafting this part of the story back in September (shhhhh, we're not gonna talk about that), I was completely convinced that my version of The Winter Solstice Part 1 would going to be short. Like 2-3k words tops. But I also wanted to do my own thing and give side characters the dignity of having names (I did... and they got cut, but the old man who met the Gaang outside the village was going to be named Hao, and Nuwa is supposed to be his wife, and the village leader was going to be named Lim Hou), and create some cool old ladies for Katara to meet, and play with Zuko's relationship with Iroh, and give Sokka some time in the spirit world, and... you know, while I'm at it, why not get the White Lotus in on things too? And I thought I could do that all in a short, transitional chapter.

Ha. Hahaha.

Whoops.

I swear, if I ever start writing original fiction again, I'm gonna sit down with a novel-length idea and come out with a six book series and at least two prequels.

Anyway! Two more weeks of updates are on the way, and I'm making good progress on Chapter 15 (which might actually be 15 and 16? Too soon to tell). Comments, questions, and general yelling are always appreciated! And you can always check out my Tumblr (@soopersara)if you're interested!