"I think today's the day," said Asami. "We can't put off the fuel stop any longer." To date, they had avoided contact with the Earth Kingdom's many cities and towns, flying high and camping in remote areas in order to escape detection. Airplanes were not very common, even in urban centers, and in the more rural areas of the kingdom they would certainly attract notice. As one of the only producers of airplanes, it would be all too easy to trace a sighting back to Future Industries. That invited more awkward questions than Iroh thought acceptable. But Asami hadn't found a way to store enough fuel for the trip on the light aircraft and still take off, especially with Iroh's added weight. They had no choice—they had to refuel somewhere along the route.

They had gone over Iroh's maps of the Earth Kingdom to try to identify the most likely places to stop. She'd laughed when he suggested going to a gas station; apparently, he had no idea that an airplane didn't run on the same kind of fuel as a Satomobile. For someone who effectively lived on a big machine he was astonishingly ignorant, but when she'd teased him about it he'd only smiled and said that's why he hired engineers.

What they were looking for turned out to be a combination of three factors: relative isolation and distance from the major transit corridors to Republic City and Ba Sing Se; a landing site that would screen them from the town but be close enough to walk from; and the presence of the kind heavy industry that would use a similar fuel weight as the plane. They had already identified a few candidates along their route that met these criteria. The closest one to them at the moment was called Fa Re.

Fa Re turned out to be a small collection of buildings nestled between a few dusty hills on the edge of a wide plain. It could only generously be called a town. As they approached, Asami saw that Fa Re was no more than a jumble of huts and crude structures, most of which appeared to be made of cast-off materials. Everything was arranged in a rough semi-circle around a large piece of machinery set into one of the hillsides. She could feel a low thrum from the machine that seemed to radiate up from the earth, indicating it was likely some kind of mining equipment.

They met no one on the walk up to the town. It was late afternoon, and hot. Asami kicked up little clouds of dust with each step. She looked over at Iroh and barely suppressed a giggle. His hair, normally combed neatly back, stuck up in a single row of flattened spikes liberally coated in axle grease. She herself sported a bright red "scarf" that was in truth a wide strip of fabric she'd, with some trepidation, torn from the edge of a parachute. The disguises had been her idea. It was a police trick that Mako had mentioned called "redirection." As outsiders in Fa Re they would certainly be noticed, and the General of the United Forces was not a completely unknown public figure. But according to Mako, eyewitness accounts were notoriously unreliable because people can only focus on and commit to memory a few pieces of visual information at a time. So, if blending in wasn't an option, with redirection you could shape how you stood out. If you could direct the eye towards something obvious or flashy, but false, people would be more likely to forget other features that could actually help with identification. Her hope was that if anyone came asking questions, she and Iroh could only reliably be described as a man with a mohawk and a woman in a red scarf.

They were nearly to the center of Fa Re and its humming machine before she saw the first resident. He was an older man, perhaps in his late 50s, and wore a faded green apron over dun-colored clothes. He was leaning outside the door of one of the ramshackle buildings, reading a paper. The sign above the door read, "The Last Drink."

"Hi," Asami said. The man looked up. He peered at her owlishly, his bright green eyes magnified by thin gold spectacles. He frowned a little.

"Hi, yourself," he said slowly, folding the paper. He nodded his head, looking them both up and down. "Pardon me if I say that I don't think you're from around here. May I help you, Miss?"

"We're looking for some kerosene," she said. Iroh waggled one of the two large cans he was carrying for emphasis. He'd agreed to let her do the talking when it came to finding the right fuel. "You know if there's any for sale in town?"

"Ayah," he nodded. "Nearly everything in Fa Re runs on a generator, and that big old hunk takes a fair amount of juice as well." He hooked one thumb towards the mining machine. "Go around the back of that and ask for Kita. She'll fix you up."

Asami refilled their kerosene without issue, although she winced a bit when Kita named her price. Beggars can't be choosers, she thought as they walked back the way they had come. They were passing The Last Drink again when she had a thought.

"You want a drink?" she asked Iroh.

"Huh?" he said. Asami nodded to the building, which she'd realized was what passed for a tavern in Fa Re. The man from earlier was nowhere in sight.

"A drink," Asami said. "And some food. Food that isn't rations."

Iroh raised an eyebrow. "You'd eat there?" he asked.

"Sure. At this point I'd eat just about anywhere that was willing to serve me something that didn't come boiled in a bag."

Iroh studied her, then nodded. They made their way over to the door. "I suppose I had you pegged as someone with more refined tastes, given the choice," he said, leaning over to open the door for her.

Asami got that a lot. People, especially men, assumed that because she was wealthy, she only liked to eat at expensive places. She did like expensive places, but the truth was that Asami simply loved food, and got just as much enjoyment out of an exquisitely crafted bite of fish roll as from a hot, dripping woolly-pig sandwich off a cart. It just happened that she could afford the former, whereas most couldn't.

"I suppose I had you pegged as someone who knows how dangerous it is to make assumptions," she shot back, and walked past General Iroh into The Last Drink.

The Last Drink tavern was certainly not a place for refined tastes. Upon entering, Asami saw that it was little more than a dark, barn-like building with a few tables and chairs against one side. A tattered green curtain on the far wall disguised the entrance to what might be a kitchen. To her right, a long board sat upon two overturned barrels to make what she supposed was the bar. Behind the board stood the green-eyed gentleman who had given them directions, paper in hand, his back to a few dusty shelves and bottles.

"Ah," he said as they came in. "Success?"

"Yes, thank you," said Asami. She glanced around the empty room. "Er, do you serve food here?"

"Ayah, some," said the gentleman. It turned out that "some" was limited to two different kinds of stew and a choice of light beer, dark beer, or something the color of brake fluid that he called "Queen's Lightning." They ordered, then sat at a table to wait.

Asami glanced around the tavern. None of the furniture matched; it had apparently been salvaged from a variety of sources, including at least one "couch" that was clearly the front seat of a truck. In the high corner opposite her, a fat brown spider perched in a cobweb the size of a dinner plate. Daylight shone through spaces between the thin boards that made up the wall of the building. She didn't think The Last Drink would be very pleasant in the rain or cold, but she'd gotten the impression that Fa Re didn't see much of either.

"Do you play?" she heard Iroh say. She looked to him, and he nodded in the direction of an old Pai Sho board leaning against the wall just behind her. As dusty as the rest of Fa Re, it looked like it hadn't been used in years.

"Only if you'll make it interesting," she said. "Loser buys the beer. Agree?"

Iroh smiled. "Do I have your word on that?" he asked, and started setting up the board. They'd agreed not to use names if possible. "I wouldn't want to take advantage of a lady."

"Oh, stuff it," laughed Asami. She had been her father's main Pai Sho partner for more than a decade, and the game played to her strengths. She'd had more than one date end badly when she wiped the floor with a man who'd been trying to give her "tips." But Iroh proved to be a far better opponent than she'd had in a long time. His strategy was unfamiliar to her; aggressive, but with odd sideways maneuvers which made her wonder if they taught the game differently in the Fire Nation. She herself favored a more long-term strategy that relied on setting up a complex set of moves which suddenly interconnected to snare her opponent.

The game was fiercely fought as Iroh sidestepped Asami's traps, but eventually she gained the edge. She was four moves away from victory when the board tilted wildly, spilling their pieces to the floor. She managed to grab the edge before the entire board fell off the table, but it was too late. The game was ruined.

"I'm sorry," she heard Iroh say as he knelt down to recover the pieces. "I hit it with my knee."

"It's all right," said Asami glumly. She'd been so close. "It was an accident."

Iroh returned to his seat, piled the pieces in the center, and asked, "Again?" She saw the corner of his mouth twitch up. And understood.

"You!" she said, grabbing a White Lotus and throwing it at his face. Iroh ducked and came up grinning, gold eyes bright with amusement. "You… you dirty rotten cheater!" She grabbed another piece.

"I'm sorry!" he said. He held up both hands to shield his face. She put down the second piece with a scowl and he tentatively lowered his hands. "In my line of work, it's an advantage to know when you've been defeated." He gestured to the board. "If you'll agree to play me again, I promise to lose gracefully. On my honor." He tapped his heart. "But first, I believe that I owe you a drink."

She reset the board while he went and paid. His comment intrigued her. He hadn't upset the board because he thought the game was going poorly. He'd known with complete confidence that he'd lost. Which meant he'd not only seen four moves ahead as well, but that he'd understood enough of her strategy to know what it meant. Impressive.

In fact, Iroh won the next match; Asami the two after that. Their food arrived, and though it was simple, it was warm and most definitely not boiled in a bag.

The shadows were long by the time they left Fa Re. Asami still hoped to make a few more miles that night, not wanting to camp so close to a settlement, but the unexpected break had eaten significantly into their traveling time. Yet Iroh, usually the one pressing them to keep on schedule, hadn't seemed to mind the delay. He'd also insisted on carrying both of the full cans of kerosene. The cords on his neck stood out as they walked, but he shrugged off her attempts to help by saying that he'd paid for her services as a pilot, not a porter.

They were almost back to the aircraft when Iroh stopped short. Asami, who had been walking a step behind, almost ran into him.

"Wha—" she started.

"Shh!" said Iroh. Asami stopped talking. In front of her Iroh stood still, his head barely moving as he scanned the landscape in the fading light. Asami herself hadn't noticed anything out of the ordinary. Now out of the low hills that surrounded Fa Re, the landscape was treeless and almost perfectly flat. If there'd been anyone approaching she could have seen them easily, but there was nothing but dirt in every direction.

Moving incredibly slowly, Iroh bent his knees and set down the kerosene, then straightened. As he rose, he moved his feet slightly apart and tensed, setting his stance in a way that she'd seen Mako and the other benders do before a fight. Nothing moved.

Then suddenly a patch of air not 15 feet in front of them shimmered and churned into swirling darkness. It looked to Asami like a blot of spilled ink, only ten feet across and floating in midair. With every moment the darkness seemed to coalesce and become more dense. Its edges stretched and contracted, forming a trunk with rough limbs, finally settling into the shape of a huge dark beast.

To Asami it most closely resembled a sky bison, but horribly wrong. It was enormous, perhaps five feet high at the shoulder and twice as long. It was lumpy and oddly flat, as if drawn by a child. Its huge, shaggy head was topped with four horns, and six legs sprouted from its broad body. It was almost completely black, the kind of black that is less a color than the complete absence of one. Its long fur was tipped in an electric purple that seemed to glow with its own inner light. Two yellow eyes, also rimmed in purple, stared unblinking from its wide face. After a moment Asami recognized it for what it must be—a dark spirit.

Iroh seemed to know what it was as well. He faced the creature and held out a hand, palm out. "Spirit," he said, in a raised voice. "We have no quarrel with you. We are travelers here, and leaving besides. Let us pass in peace." The spirit hovered in place, bouncing lightly despite the lack of wind. It made no sound.

Then without warning, it rushed them. Asami felt a sudden pressure on her side and stumbled to her left, reeling. She lost her balance and landed hard in the dirt just in time to see the dark spirit hurtle into Iroh. Asami realized that, rather than defend himself, he must have used his half-second advantage to push her out of the way. He rolled under the beast, but used the momentum to right himself up on one knee. Then he turned and used his fire.

Twin jets of flame erupted from Iroh's outstretched fists. The bison spirit had turned for another charge and both blasts caught it broadside. For a moment the area around the impacts cleared, as if the creature was made of smoke, but then quickly filled in again with inky blackness. The spirit gave no indication at all that it had been hurt, but to Asami's eyes it seemed to shrink slightly, as if it had used other parts of its mass to heal its wounds.

It completed its turn and rushed back towards Iroh. He dropped his knee and tried to roll to the side, but one spectral horn caught him in the calf and knocked him sprawling. The spirit charged past him, skidded to a halt in the air, then turned for another rush. Even if he was doing damage to the creature, they wouldn't last long like this.

Asami had always tried to take her lack of bending in stride, but she had never felt more powerless. She cursed herself for leaving her glove back at camp, but they hadn't wanted to draw attention to themselves in Fa Re and it had seemed a liability to carry the tech of a known terrorist organization. But now, out on the empty plain, she had nothing with her at all that would help in a fight. All she'd brought was a stupid fake scarf and…

Iroh released two more blasts of flame as he lay on his side in the dirt. The spirit beast charged again.

And fire.

Asami scrambled to her feet, then ran to where the two cans of heavy fuel sat. The parachutes on Future Industries planes were all made from a new type of synthetic material that was ultra light and incredibly strong, but had the downside of also being especially flammable. She quickly unwound the red parachute cloth from her neck, unscrewed the cap of the closest can, and tipped it until the fuel had fully soaked the fabric.

Iroh, meanwhile, had managed to right himself and was keeping up a relentless barrage as the bison spirit charged again and again. They both seemed to have forgotten Asami entirely. She'd have to get close to the spirit now, but with its attention fully on her companion and his constant return fire, there weren't many options.

Well, she thought. Nothing for it.

"Hey!" Asami yelled. The dark spirit skidded in the air, swirling up a cloud of dust, then turned to face her. Its strange yellow eyes seemed to fix on her, unblinking.

"No!" shouted Iroh.

"Trust me!" she called back.

The spirit charged. It was incredibly fast, closing the distance to her in seconds. At the last possible moment Asami jumped aside, flinging the fuel-soaked cloth at its massive head. The dripping fabric stuck fast to its face. She landed heavily on her side and skidded away from the beast. It would have to be enough.

"Hit it!" she yelled. Without a word, Iroh sent two blasts of fire directly at the dark spirit's face. The soaked parachute ignited in a gout of flame. The huge creature reared in what appeared to be silent pain. Balanced on its two hind legs it twisted and writhed, and for a moment its entire head disappeared in a cloud of inky blackness. As it re-formed, Asami noted that the creature itself seemed somewhat diminished. Its edges began to shimmer and blur, then its many legs widened and bent, blending back into its now swirling center. Then it was gone.

Asami picked herself up and made her way over to where Iroh sat propped up in the dirt, one arm under him, breathing hard. His palms were badly grazed, and he must have taken at least one fall on his face, but thankfully he seemed mostly unharmed. She offered him a hand, careful to grab on to his wrist to avoid the injuries.

"Nice shot," she said as he stood. His ridiculous mohawk had flopped to one side. His golden eyes met hers, then he shook his head.

"Outclassed again," he said, the corner of his mouth twitching up into a half smile. "I believe that's the fourth time today."

"Let's not make it five," she said. "Come on."

They collected the gas cans and headed quickly in the direction of the plane. After a few minutes of walking, she said quietly, "How did you see that thing coming? I didn't notice anything at all. But you knew."

"I don't really know," Iroh said. He sounded puzzled. "Something felt off, I suppose. I can't really describe it." He shrugged, the gas can sloshing slightly. He'd insisted on carrying the heaviest one again, despite his hands. "I've always been good with things like that."

"Iroh," she asked, curious, "are you a sensitive?"

"I've never heard it called that, but if you mean what I think you mean, I don't know. Perhaps. I've always had a knack for things like meditation, concentration, deep breathing. I don't know if that brings me closer to the Spirit World, but it's not impossible that it might." He hesitated. "Sometimes I can see them."

"You can?"

"The little ones, yes. And not all the time. When I was a boy my parents thought I had imaginary friends." He glanced at her. "I've learned not to talk about it."

"Why not?" she asked. Speaking with spirits was such a rare talent, she would have thought it would be incredibly valuable.

"How would you feel if your general started suddenly talking to, or about, things you couldn't see?" Asami nodded slowly. He had a point.

"What do you think set this spirit off?" she said. "I've heard dark spirits are rare. I thought they were only in places where people had disturbed something of significance to the Spirit World. Why would one be here, of all places?"

"I don't know for sure," said Iroh darkly. "But I have an idea."

"What?"

"That the situation in the South Pole might be a lot more complicated than I thought."

They walked the rest of the way in silence. It was by this time full dark, and in the unfamiliar territory Asami decided it was too risky to attempt a take-off. Instead, she retrieved her glove and the plane's small medical kit and they set up their camp as close to the aircraft as possible.

"Now," she said, after they had everything arranged. "Let me see those hands." Iroh looked up and Asami waggled a small packet of antiseptic wipes that she'd retrieved from the medical kit.

"It's nothing," he said. "Really. Just a few scratches."

"I bet that's what you said about that stab wound, too," said Asami. "How did that turn out?" Iroh flashed her a smile and nodded, then held out both his hands. She knelt next to him and ripped open the packet with her teeth before starting to gently clean the cuts. He jerked a little as the alcohol touched his skin, but otherwise didn't complain. When she'd finished she moved to his face, dabbing at the scrape on his cheek, then pushing his hair aside to clean the more serious cut above his left eyebrow. Satisfied, she looked down to find Iroh staring at her intently. Asami realized a heartbeat later how close their faces were. She pulled back in a hurry, then busied herself re-packing the medical kit.

"Thank you," Iroh said. He glanced around to the edges of the camp. "I think we should set a watch tonight. Get some rest. I'll stay up."

"Okay," said Asami. She stifled a yawn. It had in truth been a long day. "Wake me up in a few hours and I'll take over."

But when Asami opened her eyes, it was morning.