…..

Princess Azula carefully removed her armor and placed it on the rack in her changing room. Azula had worn armor like this for so long—nearly every day since her father had sent her to the war front when she was fourteen—that it felt strange removing it now, knowing that she wouldn't be wearing it tomorrow. Or the day after that. Or the day following. Azula would instead be wearing her wedding dresses for the next three days. How strange to think that by the time she put her armor back on she would be a married woman.

She paused, looking at the armor another moment before turning away and slipping into her night robe.

Today had been an eventful day. Her father had completed all the necessary orders for her and Aang to hunt down dear Zuzu in the Earthlands; Aang had stormed loudly back to the palace apparently having become a Waterbending Master; and Azula had broken a mirror.

The trip to the Earthlands was planned to commence just two days following the official wedding. Admittedly, that was sooner than Azula wished. But Father was anxious to be rid of his banished, embarrassment of a son. And it was no great matter; Aang would be traveling with Azula this time, so at least the newlyweds would not need to separate.

Azula let her thoughts dwell on her soon-to-be-husband. Aang had been upset today. More upset than Azula had ever seen him. As a child he'd been so open in his expressions—his face as easy to read as a book. As he'd grown, however, he'd learned to keep his emotions hidden. But not today. Today he had practically broken the front door down, a spattering of breathless guards trailing behind him, as he'd stormed back from waterbending practice.

Azula had seen him stomp down the hallway to his room, her eyes latching on the red stripes criss-crossing his bare back. The burns were healing rapidly, but the sight of them still brought an unfamiliar disquiet, a feeling like… regret? Azula had wondered if she should go to him; but the thought had left her feeling suspended mid-fall, not having any idea what she would say when she got there. Other people's feelings were not generally something Azula knew much about, aside from how to manipulate them, of course.

Azula had been by her father's side later in the day when Zhao had self-congratulated himself, trumpeting that the Avatar had completed his training that day, and that now Aang was a Waterbending Master. The announcement had included a detailed and glowing report of the sheer power the Avatar had demonstrated that day, of how the ocean had bowed to his whims.

With glowing news like that, Azula wondered what could have caused the foul mood Aang had come home in. One would think he'd be elated. 'Master of All Four Elements' was a singular title; Aang ought to be proud.

Reading between the lines, Azula wondered what else had happened.

Later Azula had watched him covertly, from her balcony overlooking the turtle-duck pond. He'd retired to the seclusion of the small garden there, ordering all the servants to leave him alone. Azula had watched curiously as Aang had paced agitatedly. Eventually he had sat beside the pond, folding his legs in that strange way of his, with his feet resting on his thighs, his arrowed fists brought together in front of him.

What had put him in such an agitated state?

Worries of the waterbender surfaced.

Azula's mind turned back to the debate that had taken place the morning after Aang's flogging. In a delightful little gazebo in the garden, the topic of whether or not to let Master Katara live had been discussed over tea.

As Azula had sat with Zhao sipping hot jasmine tea, her thoughts had ironically turned to Uncle. She'd wondered how many fates Iroh had decided over tea, back when he'd been an honorable and ambitious General? And what about now? Azula didn't doubt that in the last month alone the strategies Uncle had devised over tea had likely killed many Fire Nation soldiers. It really was a pity that Uncle Iroh had chosen to turn his brilliant military mind against the Fire Nation.

"The Avatar still needs a teacher to help him complete his waterbending training! And there is no time to acquire another Master before the end of the season!" Zhao had complained.

Azula had yawned, purposely, at Zhao's impassioned arguments. She knew what Zhao had promised her father—that Aang would be a full Master of All Four Elements by the end of the season—but she cared little for his self-serving agendas.

"The Avatar's waterbending lessons have been quite the spectacle lately," Azula replied in her usual snide tone.

"In no small part thanks to you, Princess," Zhao had retorted, the resentment in his voice poorly masked. Azula supposed that she had been the source of some disruption to Aang's waterbending training, which was surely a bee in Zhao's bonnet. She sighed at the tedium of being bothered with little people's little problems.

"Oh please, Zhao," Azula smiled at how her omission of his title made him bristle, "you cannot deny that in our little charade yesterday we learned more in fifteen minutes about Aang's capabilities than you'd managed to uncover in years."

Zhao had puffed up like a betta-cat. "Ah yes, your 'charade'. That was some remarkable acting by our leading man, don't you think? One might think it hadn't been planned at all."

It had been clear to Azula from the get-go that Zhao had not bought her little lie to Father about Aang's defiance being merely a stunt, that it had all been to test his combat skills. Azula demurely stifled another yawn. Again, little people's little problems. She could hardly care less what Zhao did or did not believe.

"Oh I think the real theatrical award ought to go to the water peasant," Azula had quipped with mock-praise. "I'm pretty sure she had everyone fooled. Especially our dear sweet Avatar."

Her words had oozed her usual haughty sarcasm, but underneath her teasing tone, hatred had simmered hotly. Azula could not deny the open affection that she'd seen on Aang's face that day. Affection for the waterbender.

But, Azula assuaged herself, all of that must surely be obsolete now. There's no way Aang could care for her now. Not after she figuratively—and literally—stabbed him in the back!

Azula's mouth had twisted in a smile by her teacup, remembering the sheer poetry of the moment.

All told, the water peasant's betrayal was the first reason Azula had let her live. Azula frankly could not have planned it better herself. She knew that if she had succeeding in killing the peasant, Aang would likely have held some resentment towards her. Tedious as that kind of thing was, it was a problem she would have had to deal with. However, now, Azula needn't deal with any of that. Because of her own volition, the waterbender had made herself unforgivable.

Azula knew that she could never pardon such a betrayal (her thoughts turning scathingly to Mai). Surely Aang would feel the same?

Azula had tapped the side of her teacup with her nails, dismissing the doubt that lingered.

Things as they stood were better than she could have hoped. In that moment, Azula had acted on pure emotion—commanding the archer to kill the peasant! But upon reevaluation, Azula recognized that the order may have been a bit hasty. True, Azula would not have mourned the waterbender's death, but still Master Katara might prove to be a more valuable asset to her alive.

If managing Aang proved to be more troublesome than she anticipated, holding the water peasant's life on the line as motivation seemed like a prudent alternative to killing the Avatar. Something stirred uncomfortably in Azula's chest at the prospect of killing Aang, as though her heart had grown too large for her chest making it hard to breathe. She hated knowing that she now had something to lose, something she cared enough about to even lie to Father for. She wished that she could rid herself of these feelings, knowing that she was far better off without them! And yet she clung to them anyway, like a soldier unwilling to lose a limb that was no longer of use. Azula's feelings for Aang had become… dear to her, and she simply could not sever them off.

So she would manage them. By whatever means necessary.

Thus the waterbender still lived. After all Azula was not one to waste. And she could always kill her later.

Zhao had left their little teatime debate convinced that he had won, pompously believing that the decision to let the waterbender live had anything to do with him. Azula had allowed him to believe in his "victory." Let the dog enjoy his scraps.

Azula looked around her changing room. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She was pleased that Aang had completed his elements training. If for no other reason, his time with the waterbender had come to an end. The jealousy Azula still harbored bothered her.

Azula turned towards her elaborate gold-trimmed vanity, giving the mirror on it a sidelong glance. She hated the distrust she felt of her own reflection.

Earlier today she'd seen her mother. In a mirror in the hall. Azula knew that as she had become a woman, she had grown to look more and more like her mother. But this had been more than a mere resemblance in her own reflection. Mother had stood behind her. Spoken to her. Lies about love and sorrow at missing her own daughter's wedding.

Tomorrow Azula would begin her wedding ceremonies, which she decided, must be making her embarrassingly sentimental. For no matter how she tried, she couldn't seem to dismiss the small ache in her chest that felt like missing Mother.

Azula never thought about her mother. What good could possibly come of it? The woman had abandoned her when she'd been just a child. Mother had always viewed her as a monster anyway. So her sudden appearance in the mirror had unsettled Azula.

The mirror had been an antique. What a shame.

Determination furrowed her porcelain brow and she turned resolutely towards her vanity and sat down, staring her own reflection in the eyes as though daring it to challenge her.

Ty Lee was supposed to come and brush Azula's hair. But she was late. Off with her water tribe lover again? Azula wondered with a disapproving wrinkle of her nose.

Let her have her fun, she supposed, since soon enough Ty Lee would be returning with her to the Earthlands. And this time, Aang would be joining them. Azula tried to suppress her excited nervousness at this thought.

She took a fortifying breath. Mother would have liked Aang, even though they'd never met. Azula didn't know if that made it better or worse, knowing that her mother would have preferred her future husband to her own daughter.

Azula forced her thoughts elsewhere; dwelling on Mother never led anywhere pleasant. So instead she picked up the knife she'd placed on the vanity when she'd undressed, and examined it.

"Don't cut yourself, Azula. I know how sharp that is."

Azula's eyes darted upward at the sound of Mai's voice. And there she stood. Behind her in the mirror's reflection.

"And I've sharpened it everyday besides," Azula replied scathingly. "Must keep it in immaculate condition for when I 'give it back to you,' you worthless traitor!"

"You think it's me you're really mad at?" Mai's raspy, apathetic voice droned.

"Of course it is!"

Mai sighed folding her arms in skeptical boredom.

Azula studied her old friend. She wore her loose maroon pant suit, no doubt concealing her usual arsenal of shuriken knives, stiletto arrows, and sai. But Azula didn't feel afraid.

Not of Mai, anyway.

"So what are you afraid of?" Mai asked dryly in response to Azula's unspoken thoughts.

Why did people keep doing that?! Listening to her thoughts!

"Nothing. I fear nothing."

"You're afraid of your father."

"No I'm not." Azula hated the defensiveness in her voice. She wasn't. She knew she wasn't afraid of Father. Father had never hurt her.

"Because daughters are better than sons? Or because you haven't given him a reason yet?"

Azula gave her head a sharp shake, desperate to rid her mind of Zuko's pleas for mercy. Of Aang's cries beneath the whip.

"I don't fear Father." Azula said flatly, narrowing her eyes dangerously at Mai. "He trusts me implicitly."

Mai looked at her, her face its typical impasse. But Azula knew that she saw too much.

"And you're afraid of Aang, too."

Azula laughed, a manic cackling sound. "And why would I fear Aang?"

Mai just looked at her in the mirror, saying nothing. Azula squirmed. Aang was nothing to fear. He was powerful, yes, but he also wouldn't hurt a fly. And certainly not her.

Mai breathed sharply out her nose, the closet thing to a laugh Mai ever did. "You know I'm not talking about fighting. Come on, Azula, you've never been simple before. Why refuse to see?"

Because she didn't want to see! Azula knew her affections had made her vulnerable. That Aang now had the power to hurt her without lifting a finger. Again Azula's mind called up the image of Aang with the waterbender—t he love on his face had been undeniable. Azula yearned for it. For Aang to look at her that way. But what if he never did? What would she do if he withheld his love from her?

"Then I'll kill him." Azula said to herself.

"Doubtful," Mai droned.

"I will!" Azula screamed. But the horrible prospect of directing her lighting at Aang caused Azula's hand to faltered on the knife. Red opened up on her finger accompanied by a sharp pain. She hissed.

Mai raised an eyebrow.

The pain sharpened Azula's resolve. "I doubt nothing! Father has taught me to be sure at all times. Whatever I decide is right," she spat at Mai.

Mai sighed again, rolling her eyes. "Whatever."

Azula growled and whirled on Mai, hurling the knife at where she stood with deadly intent.

"Azula?"

Ty Lee's bewildered voice came to her from the doorway. Azula's rage-blurred eyes focussed on the knife she'd just thrown. It was now lodged soundly in a tapestry on the wall near the door. The upholstery depicted a dragon and phoenix flying around one another in an endless dance: the symbol of the emperor and empress. The knife pierced the dragon's heart.

Azula turned on Ty Lee. "What are you doing here?!" she barked angrily.

"I'm here to… brush your hair. Remember…?" Ty Lee's big eyes looked concerned, apprehensive; she glanced around as though looking for who Azula had been talking to. She purposely kept her eyes averted from the knife in the wall.

Mai was no where to be seen.

"Ah, yes," Azula said, masking her confusion. "Of course. You're late."

She sat primly back down at the vanity, back straight, avoiding eye contact with herself in the mirror.

Nerves. She was nervous for tomorrow. That was all. Naturally.

All was as it should be.

As it should be.

…..

"Otōto"

The mute stableboy turned from where he stood currying Appa's fur. He'd been filling a bag at his feet with the last of the shed fur from his brush. The season was nearly at an end, and Appa would stop shedding soon.

Just in time.

The boy's face illuminated when he saw Aang, his eyes nearly disappearing in a giant smile.

Aang smiled in return, hoping that it didn't look as disingenuous as it felt.

He felt no reasons to smile tonight.

Aang breathed deeply and looked around the stable, letting the comforting, musty smell fill his senses. This place had been a refuge for him for a long, long time, through all his years living as a prince in the Fire Nation. There had been only a few of these 'safe havens' for Aang in the palace; places where he could remove his mask and just be Aang. Appa's stable, of course. The kitchen late at night. The turtle-duck pond. And his own room.

But happy places seemed to be fewer and further between for him everyday.

His room was about to no longer belong to him, as he would be moving to Azula's rooms shortly. Just as well, he supposed with stony stoicism, since his own room held so many traces of Katara it had become nearly unbearable.

Tomorrow Aang would begin his wedding celebrations. Aang knew that once he moved in with Azula, it would be much harder to sneak out his window. But no matter. He'd have little reason to do so after tonight.

Tonight would be the last night that Appa's stable would be any kind of refuge for him.

Aang turned his thoughts away from the agony that awaited him and held up a small bag. "I brought you baozi, Otōto," he announced with another fake smile.

Otōto tipped his head in teasing question.

"Don't worry. I remembered." Aang said wryly. "Three of them."

A pang of sadness caught in his breath as he remembered why he'd brought three baozi. It was because last time Otōto had caught him here with Katara. That night. The night Katara had held him, and he'd felt for the first time since the iceberg that he was loved and that he was no longer alone.

The boy took the bag eagerly, and Aang turned towards his bison, keen to hide his face from Otōto. Aang pet Appa's muzzle fondly. Appa grunted in satisfaction and took a step closer to Aang, nearly knocking him over in his returned nuzzling affection. Despite himself, Aang smiled. Appa had a way of doing that. Of making Aang feel happy even when he wasn't.

"Do you mind giving us a minute?" Aang asked Otōto. Otōto shrugged happily, one baozi already stuffed completely in his mouth. "And don't eat those too fast!" Aang chuckled. "You'll get a tummy ache."

Otōto just waved his hand dismissively over his shoulder as he walked into the dark night. Aang watched the boy tenderly until he rounded the corner in the wall surrounding Appa's field. Then the smile slipped from his face. He tried not to think of how his actions tonight might be bad for Otōto.

Aang turned back to his bison.

"Hey Buddy."

Appa bellowed and bumped Aang, chastising him for his long absence. "I know, I know. I've been away too long. But just… so much has… happened."

His beating. His impending hunt for Zuko. His engagement.

Losing Katara…

Despite his efforts to close off his heart, Aang still missed Katara so much it hurt. Being forced to train with her, without really being with her, had been torture. It gave him no chance to avoid his feelings for her—no way to pretend he wasn't still in love with her. Because every time he'd looked at her his heart had lurched and broken, pounding and aching so much he could hardly function. He'd felt like a starving man at a feast that he couldn't eat. The temptation of her being right there felt almost worse than never seeing her again.

Almost.

Aang didn't know if that was really true. He feared that it wouldn't be. And he would ache for Katara all of his days.

But then this morning had happened—how Katara had highjacked him and tried to make him believe all of those absurdities! And now he didn't know what to feel. Aang feared that the person he'd fallen in love with had been a lie all along. This realization ought to have made the loss of her more bearable. But it didn't. It only made him feel more heartsick and more betrayed.

Aang shook his head, trying to shake away his feelings with the motion.

Aang hauled the large double doors of the stable open, making room for Appa to walk out into the field. With a wave of his arm, Aang extinguished the flames in the lanterns hanging inside the stable, plunging them into a surprisingly dark night. The moon had been full and generous the night Aang had blissfully kissed Katara on the rooftop. Now the moon was barely a slit, as though closing her eyes to his troubles, not daring to be a witness to his actions tonight.

Appa seemed to sense Aang's morose mood, and stayed close by him as they walked into the field. Aang looked up at the dark night and the moon that had turned her face away.

Aang tried not to think about the things Katara had told him today. But he could think of little else. The dissonance her words caused blared harshly in all of his thoughts.

She had claimed that the Fire Nation were war mongers. Aggressors. That they were waging war on the other nations—that they had been for a hundred years! Ridiculous.

Briefly Aang recalled Master Bo's tall tale of the Fire Nation Avatar who had quarreled with his friend, resulting in a hundred years of war. But that had been just a story… right?

Right…?

Aang shook his head again, trying to cast away his doubt.

Katara had said that the Air Nomads had been murdered. Wiped out by the Fire Nation. But why would the Fire Nation do that? As a child, Aang had had friends all over the Fire Nation, and he'd never been shown ill will by the people here. And the Air Nomads had been peaceful! Their days full of meditation, gliding, and herding sky bison. What reason would anyone have to harm them?! The thought made his stomach churn.

Aang clenched his jaw. Why would Katara make up a lie like that?! Her words made him sick. And angry.

"Tell me about the plague that killed the other Air Nomads," Aang had asked Physician Yoroh this afternoon as he'd laid on his stomach on the examination bed.

The doctor's hands had paused for a tense moment, but picked up their work of carefully spreading a new coat of salve on Aang's burns as he'd replied. "I think you know already what there is to know."

"But I want to hear it again. I want to hear it from you."

Physician Yoroh sighed before speaking as though from rote, "Over a century ago, a deadly plague swept through the Air Nomad population, killing all of them."

"Except me."

"Except you," the doctor agreed slowly.

Aang fidgeted, his discontent making it hard to lay still.

Aang thought of Sister Nnang, and her extensive library of herbs and tonics and remedies at the Eastern Air Temple. And of Monk Ng, who tended to all the boys when the changing winds brought them sniffles and coughs. Air Nomads had been known for their knowledge of the body and natural medicines, for their ability to treat a wide variety of ailments. Even Aang, as a small boy, had been taught to recognize a few plants and what conditions they could treat. More than once Aang remembered villagers calling out to them in their travels, begging Gyatso to help heal a sick child or husband or aged mother. And Gyatso had obliged whenever possible. People had known that they could, and would, share their healing knowledge. How could a people, with such a vast knowledge of healing like his, have been destroyed by a plague?

"But this plague only killed my people? How could that be? Air Nomads were everywhere, surely it would have spread to the other nations as well?"

"Air Nomads were… uniquely susceptible."

"Because of a genetic weakness?"

"Yes."

"That only my people had?"

A long pause. "So it would appear."

Anger had swelled within Aang's chest like the roots of a tree planted in a pot much too small, the pressure threatening to break through his rib cage and spill out over the floor. Aang had sat up and looked Physician Yoroh in the eyes.

"The Firelord has kept me here, all these years, because of my 'genetic weakness'. He said it was to protect me, in case the plague still exists somewhere."

Physician Yoroh returned Aang's gaze steadily, his face giving nothing away.

"Except now," Aang continued, anger building even more, "he plans to send me to the Earth Kingdom as though all of that is forgotten! What's changed? Is the 'plague' suddenly no longer a threat to me?"

Physician Yoroh's eyes darted to the side. "What killed the other Air Nomads is no longer a threat." Genuine sadness tinged the doctor's voice. "It will no longer harm you."

Aang plopped dejectedly down on the grass in Appa's field. "What difference does it make, Appa?" Aang asked. "They're all dead anyway." But Aang knew that it made all the difference. He gripped the grass hard at the roots, as waves of sorrow for those he'd lost washed endlessly over him. He mourned for Gyatso. And Monk Pasang. And his friends Yeshe and Kunchen and Jamyang. He mourned for Dhonu and Phuntsok and Jinju and Tsering and all the others! He couldn't get them out of his head! He'd already known that they were dead, but today it felt like they were all dying anew.

The idea of a plague sweeping through their numbers had been harrowing enough. But the thought of them being slaughtered on purpose, burned by firebenders, was simply more than Aang could bear.

Aang was a firebender himself now. So it was impossible for him not to feel, deep in the muscle memory inside his own body, exactly what would have been done in an attack. When he pictured it, he was both victim and aggressor. His stomach turned violently, and he gripped the grass harder, his shoulders shaking with the effort of containing this grief that felt like it would rip him fully apart.

What Katara had said was a lie. It had to be.

Because Aang didn't know if he could cope if it wasn't.

Today, for the first time since Appa had been hurt all those years ago, Aang had attempted to meditate. Not as he pretended to do with the Fire Sages every morning, but as he had done every day of his life as a child. Katara's words had unleashed such a flood of grief and confusion and pain upon him, that he could not put a stopper in it. He'd been so desperate for relief that he'd been willing to try anything.

Monk Gyatso had taught him that meditation could help to bring healing to a hurting soul, to bring perspective, to reveal truth.

But Aang had not found truth. And after an hour of agony, Aang had given up, cursing angrily enough that the turtle-ducks had fled from him. He'd wiped sweat from his brow at the effort of "letting go" without the satisfaction of being able to set a single burden down.

Truth. He'd been seeking it. But how could he possibly know it?

Katara had seemed so earnest. So sincere. And it hadn't escaped his notice that her actions had come at great personal risk to herself.

And yet Aang had believed her lies before. Her "I love you, Aang" had felt truer than anything. His throat swelled, his feelings for Katara still so strong he thought they might strangle him.

He didn't know what to believe.

Ozai had said that the Rebellion was dangerous. That they were opposed to freedom and order and peace. And now Aang knew that Katara was one of them. Maybe she was here to sabotage? To sow seeds of doubt in the Avatar in an effort to turn another one of Firelord Ozai's sons against him?

Or maybe she was telling the truth?

But if so, it was only her word against everything he'd ever been taught. How could he trust her when everyone else told him differently? Aang thought of his controlled life here in the palace. He'd been unusually isolated, far more so than Azula or anyone else. Why? Everyone here told the same story, but could it be that that story was fabricated?

No. The idea was absurd. How arrogant to think that everyone he knew would go to such great lengths to deceive him!

Aang stood and flopped his body onto Appa, burying the side of his face into his oldest friend's furry flank. Appa's smell, his warmth, everything about him brought comfort to Aang, even though he knew the comfort was only temporary. Aang couldn't imagine how he would have survived these years here without him.

But everything changes. Eventually. And he would have to learn to make do without.

Today, memories from Aang's childhood had surged upon him, unrelenting, unchecked and uncontrollable, like a raging sea beating upon a rocky shore. These memories had been filled with joy and freedom and laughter and love. Soaring through the clouds on Appa, traveling the world, making new friends everywhere he went—the joy of these memories mocked him, contrasting so sharply his life now, caged and miserable.

Aang ran both arms through Appa's thick fur, imagining for a moment that the two of them were free again. Free and soaring through the sky!

"You should be free, Appa." Aang spoke. "You should be soaring through the skies and roaming the world with all the other sky bison! Instead, you're here, cooped away in this stable because of me." Aang knew that he'd been selfish. Selfish to keep Appa here all because of how desperately he needed him.

But Appa's happiness was more important to Aang than his own. He wasn't going to stand in the way any longer. Even if Aang could never be with his people again, that shouldn't stop Appa from finding the other sky bison.

Aang thought of his impending marriage. And of the Firelord's orders. Of his life here as a prince. Of the ornate golden cage that had been so beautifully, and thoroughly constructed for him. He knew he couldn't escape it. But if Aang was going to spend his life in bondage, the least he could do is spare his best friend the same fate. It was time for Aang to set Appa free. To do what he should have done years ago.

He was finally brave enough to let Appa go.

Aang indulgently ran his arm along Appa's brow. He was grateful to see only a very few white hairs come out between his fingers—Appa was nearly finished shedding, which was good. That would make him harder to track. And as long as he didn't go with him, Aang felt confident that the Fire Nation would not expend a great effort to retrieve his sky bison.

It was time for Appa to finally live in the skies again. To find his own kind. To be free!

Aang swallowed back his grief, trying to let the oblivion of apathy anesthetize him to what he was about to do. However, despite Aang's attempts to turn his heart to stone, tears welled in his eyes. Aang knew that a sky bison and his airbender were meant to be companions for life. But he also knew he was a pretty terrible airbender these days. And Appa deserved better than being chained to Aang's fate.

Aang turned his face into Appa's fur one last time, and his face crumpled in a repressed, silent sob. He knew it was time—Otōto would return soon—but still he lingered in the warmth of his best friend.

The sob grew, gathering like a bomb ready to explode in his chest. He had to do it now. Or he didn't know if he would ever be strong enough.

"Appa. You have to go." Aang pulled himself away from Appa and for the first time, put his mask on in front of his oldest friend, his tears drying immediately. "Yip, yip!"

Appa's ears flipped at the command. Then he groaned at Aang, and took a step closer, nudging him as though to rub this nonsense from his silly boy's head. But Aang stepped back further, flinging his arms at him and yelling, "Get out of here! Yip, yip!"

Appa was not amused. He stepped back, rearing, and flapped his bifurcated tail in irritation, swirling the grass in a stiff circling wind.

"You need to fly away from here, Appa. Far, far away from here!"

When Appa didn't obey, Aang stomped on the ground, sending a rock pillar up from the ground below Appa, jabbing him in his soft underbelly. Appa growled and beat his tail again, his body rising ungracefully off the ground. He hovered low, nearby Aang, making no move to fly away.

"Go Appa! Go and find the other sky bison! Go and be free! You deserve to be free!" Aang sent another rock pike up, then another, irritating Appa into flying higher. Appa's injured tail made him clumsy in the air, but he could still fly! The bison bellowed at Aang, his displeasure obvious. He flew a small circle above the walled field, but made no move to fly away.

Aang ignored the way his heart broke and screamed at his friend. "Get out of here! I don't want you here anymore!" He punched a pillar of fire at Appa. Then another. Appa dodged, his confusion obvious. The bison growled at his boy!

Aang gathered his fists to his stomach and then punched both fists outward at his friend. The fire that burst from him shot at Appa, sending the creature spinning back and upward, the smell of lightly singed fur permeating the air.

Appa bellowed angrily one last time. And then he flew, up and away, disappearing into the dark night sky.

When Aang could no longer see him, he sank to his knees and wept, clutching the grass with white-knuckled fists. The throbbing pain of this moment was far worse than any whipping he'd ever received. Telling Appa to go, forcing him to go, felt like willfully cutting off his own arm. With Appa gone, Aang felt a vital piece of himself rip apart and go with him.

Aang knelt on the grass. Destitute.

But then he heard it.

A familiar deep bellow rang out in the air. Aang looked up in surprise to see Appa returning! Irritation and hope and despair all swelled within him.

Aang stood, preparing to punch the air with fire again, but Appa spun, tucking his six legs inward and flapping his giant tail at Aang. The power behind the gust of air that followed surprised Aang, flattening him squarely onto his back, knocking the wind from his lungs on impact.

The next thing Aang knew, he was pinned under his huge friend's front fore-paw trapping him against the grass. The bison's enormous mouth opened above him and bellowed his displeasure, his hot breath scolding his boy for his stupidity.

But then a giant tongue emerged and licked Aang wetly from navel to hairline. Aang struggled half-heartedly, but gave up almost immediately. Aang laughed out loud with relief! Then sobbed with it. Appa wasn't going to leave him! Appa wasn't willing to leave him! He was staying. He was staying.

Aang had prepared himself to be alone. Truly alone. But Appa wasn't willing to leave him! And the relief Aang felt was like the breaking of a dam.

Aang wouldn't have to face this alone after all!

….