Where Words Fail: Book 4: Threshold Guardians

by TEi Has Pants

Smellerbee and Longshot have escaped the swamp and bridged the gap between them. Their next stop, Omashu, is still a few days away, but that doesn't mean those days are uneventful...

3. Chapter 3

Where Words Fail

Book Four: Threshold Guardians

Chapter 3: ...and the horse you rode in on

AUTHOR'S NOTE:/b This story is a fan fiction - nothing more, nothing less. It has been made purely for entertainment purposes, and is not meant for commercial gain. Avatar: The Last Airbender and all characters, places and concepts are copyright of Nickelodeon, Michael Dante DiMartino and Bryan Konietzko. All original characters are copyright their respective owners and are used with their permission. The story has been illustrated by the talented and awesome SioUte.

SCENE DIVIDE

Watch duty stunk.

There were two reasons for that: first, being on watch meant that there was nothing that needed building (the past few months of converting the tents the Freedom Fighters slept in to actual huts had been a wonderful, fulfilling project that had unfortunately seen its conclusion), and Pestle felt like a lump when she wasn't planning out a new house, or some other kind of practical facility. Second, watching a particular section of the forest was a one-person job, which meant that, while she guarded the southeast, Mortar was stationed somewhere else, or had to work an entirely different shift, and Sneers didn't want them to be together because he knew they would distract each other.

Pestle pouted, one knee drawn up to her chest, the other dangling over the broad, rugged tree branch she'd perched herself on; she wasn't supposed to stay in one place long, had to stay on patrol because there were a myriad of paths squiggling through the forest, and a Fire Nation convoy could march on through any one of them at any given time. She sighed and drew a hammer from her tool pouch and started to tap the tree branch absentmindedly with the butt end of its handle. Weighted and top-heavy, it was her favorite tool, because she'd had this hammer since before the Freedom Fighters - a foggy time where she had a different name, when Mortar was just a toddler. She didn't remember how she'd gotten it, if she'd found it or if it had been given to her, but she still liked it nonetheless. She should really get up and go, continue on her route, but...something told her that she shouldn't move just yet, a hunch niggling at the base of her skull.

She'd always been right with her hunches, so she wasn't going to ignore them, despite what Sneers told her to do.

Thock, thock, thock, thock. The sound of her hammer striking the tree branch rose up to join the natural blanket of the forest's sounds: trees rustling as a slow breeze rolled past, bugs chirping, tree frogs singing at each other, birds calling...footsteps, lots of them, on the forest floor, close by -

Pestle shot up too her feet and tried to home in on the sound. She wasn't the tracker Spike and Piper were, and her hearing wasn't as acute, so she couldn't get a solid number of people - there were just a lot of them, too many, coming from the east. She clenched her teeth, felt her eyes go wide - she had to, was obligated to go investigate, for the safety of the Freedom Fighters, but the thought of passing so close to a potential enemy made her heart pound against her ribcage, her pulse hammer away in her ears. She just - as long as she was quiet, stayed unseen, then it wouldn't be a problem, she wouldn't be in danger - but she, she couldn't run away from this as tempting as it was. Mortar wouldn't run away, and - and thinking about her younger sister gave Pestle courage, warmed her from the insides, because Mortar was strong and brave and had a certain clarity Pestle didn't.

The girl squared her shoulders and grunted; if - if worst came to worst, she knew enough Earthbending to get her by, maybe. She and Mortar had been practicing a lot lately, and...

She shook her head and turned in the direction of the footsteps. "Stop stalling, Pestle," she murmured. "You can do this." She ran down the length of the tree branch and vaulted away, the air cool against her face, sweeping back her hair.

SCENE DIVIDE

It took a few minutes and a couple wrong turns, but she finally tracked down the invaders cutting through their forest; warriors, all of them, dressed in strange, blue or green armor. Earth Kingdom and Water Tribe warriors, marching together? Something didn't seem right about that - but she didn't know much about the workings of the military (that was a Sneers-and-Skillet thing, and listening to them bicker about the subject always made Pestle drowsy). There were ten of them, all said and done, some carrying weapons and some not (Benders?), all of them grown men and women...the Earthbender girl shuddered, the same faux courage she'd forced on herself fluttering away, yielding to cowardice. Who were these people, and why were they here? Would they try to hurt the forest, and would the Freedom Fighters need to intervene? There were a lot more Freedom Fighters now ever since Sneers had taken over, so there wasn't any shortage of combat-ready ones, but the thought of having to get up close and personal with these people, these strangers, on a battlefield...

Okay. Okay, calm down. Pestle drew a deep breath through her nose. She hunkered down on her new tree branch, narrowing her eyes and scrutinizing the warriors as they crossed the path below. Five of the adults wore blue, and four wore green...the last one, though - huge, taller than the rest, wearing a blue vest - his head was incredibly long, though, stuck too far up off his shoulders -

No, wait.

It - it couldn't be them. Could it? They'd left the forest over a season ago, Sneers had kicked them out and ordered them to never come back, but...but it looked like them, and she needed to get closer to be sure...she pushed up and leapt along a series of branches, flitting from one to the next until she'd passed the head of the group, coming to a stop and crouching.

Yes - it was them! Pipsqueak, with The Duke riding on his shoulders! They'd come back - back from wherever they'd gone, and they'd brought warriors with them! Pestle beamed, giggled, a burbling giddiness swelling up into her throat - things would be okay, this wasn't a problem at all, and, and - Pestle pushed away again, dropping down from one branch to the next, the wind ruffling her clothes, each landing jarring up her ankles, her knees, coming to a stop close to the forest floor. Some of the warriors noticed her - tensed up - but the joy washing over her overrode the fear, the shyness, and Pestle plopped down on her current branch, beaming.

"Pipsqueak! The Duke! Up here!"

The two Freedom Fighters turned - glanced up - and laughed in unison, each one throwing a hand up into the air and waving.

"Heya, Pestle!" The Duke pushed up into a standing position and dropped down off Pipsqueak's shoulders; Pestle slid off the branch, dropping the rest of the way to the forest floor, landing in a crouch like Morter had showed her to do, so she didn't break her ankles. The impact jostled her, and her breath came out tight and hot and her chest tingled and wow, every time she did that, it didn't stop being exhilarating. Every time she inhaled, the aroma of honey flooded her nose, fresh and poignant and delicious. She and The Duke met halfway to each other, Pipsqueak close on The Duke's heels.

"What are you doing back here?" Pestle asked, clasping her hands in front of her chest, her cheeks tingling - she couldn't stop smiling, this was great, this was fantastic, it was part of home returning to them after so long! "Things haven't been the same since you and the others left! How are you doing?"

Pipsqueak laughed and rubbed the back of his head with one hand. "We're pretty good, all things considered. How've the others been? Sneers keeping you and Mortar busy building stuff? I figure, with me gone, he put you two in charge of construction."

"Oh - oh yes," she said, and even though her joy had abated somewhat, the thought of how busy they'd been up until recently kept the fact that nine strangers had their focus on her out of mind long enough to keep her from withdrawing into her shell. "We built huts - got rid of the tents. There's a lot more Freedom Fighters now, so we needed to upgrade. It's...it's an adventure, being in charge of those projects. I think you'd be proud of us."

"Wow, how many more are there?" The Duke asked.

"Oh, well..." Pestle brought a finger to her mouth and glanced up at the canopy overhead, gnawing on her lower lip. "There was...I think nineteen before you left...now we've got over sixty."

"Sixty?"

"Um - not all of them are around here," Pestle murmured, heat wriggling up to her face - and, yeah, now she could feel everyone's attention on her, and her gaze flitted to The Duke, to Pipsqueak, and finally to the ground, the pressure of eleven sets of eyes coming to rest on her and her alone, and, and... "Sneers started - he's sent scouts out into the world, going undercover. I don't know all the details, mostly he and Skillet handle that...but, um - I should let the others know you're here. Excuse me."

She bowed to the Freedom Fighters and the strange hodgepodge of warriors before turning and - oh man, she'd have to bird-call in front of strangers, that was sorta mortifying, wasn't it? What would they think, would they - it wasn't like she could run off and hide and do it, because she'd need to come back and that'd just make it worse, and -

Pestle let out a tight puff of air and closed her eyes, Mortar's voice lighting across her consciousness: just do it, don't be embarrassed. Let them think what they want to, 'cuz it'll just be awesome when Freedom Fighters start showing up! They'll know that you've got some hidden awesome inside you.

Right. Right, okay. Mortar was always right about that stuff.

She took a deep breath and cupped her hand over her mouth.

SCENE DIVIDE

The door to his room hadn't even fully opened before a youthful voice started clamoring for his attention, and Sneers growled.

"Sneers! Sneers!"

Scowling, his brow furrowed, the stocky, young monk felt his focus rupture and drift away, like sand slipping between his fingers. Come on, not again - it was one of the children, coming to bother him, like clockwork. They always did, deterring to him for the most trivial things, even though he'd told them an innumerable number of times that the hour following noon and midnight were when his chakra flowed the most actively. They should only have bothered him for emergencies, but they never did, it was always trivial stuff, and it was a miracle his spiritual strength hadn't become a withered-up husk by this point.

Jet had been gone for all but a season, and in that time, Sneers still had no idea how his former leader put up with constantly pandering to children, despite the monk's love for them and their well-being. He had already admitted (if only to himself and with a bitter sensation welling up in his stomach) that he'd probably go insane before the Spirit of Wisdom deigned give him that answer. Not even moving his few possessions to Jet's old hut (his, now, by right of caste) provided the solution to that mystery, even though Sneers glowered at the walls every time it happened as if expecting them to yield the knowledge he sought.

Okay. As obnoxious as it was to break his concentration, if he didn't address the child in question - Telltale, judging by the voice, the most fleetfooted look-out the Freedom Fighters had - then he would only get more persistent, and ruin any chance of salvaging the good karma later on. He pried himself away from his passive perceptions - the rough, cold wood on his butt and legs, the fluttering aroma of honey and lilting birdsong, cracking his eyes open. He didn't wear clothes when meditating, and this was hardly an exception; it interfered with his communication with the Spirits (that's what he'd been taught, anyway), but the younger Freedom Fighter standing at the doorway didn't flinch or withdraw (sure, there were always certain clothing standards when wandering around the hideout proper, but there were only so many hours of the day and everyone needed to bathe at some point. You lost your sense of shame in a situation like that).

"What is it?" Sneers struggled and ultimately failed to keep his voice soft, the frustration seeping through little fractures in his patience. He loved the children, he really did; he'd stayed back in the forest by choice when the others of the Core had decided to leave, but Spirits knew how his charges tried his patience even through his affection. He imagined that this was what it must have been like to be a parent; full to bursting with love, but when they soiled themselves, you had to change their loincloth. "If it's another squabble over a game of shadow thief, Mortar and Pestle are better suited for resolving the problem."

"No - Sneers, it's not that!" Telltale stood with one hand planted on the door frame, the sprawling, bushy blanket of crimson the forest was so named for yawning out behind him, casting the boy in silhouette. Sunlight draped down over him like a blanket, vanishing once he crossed the doorway and made his way into the room. Sneers could see the pike he carried around as his main weapon, stolen from a Fire Nation soldier some time before Jet's departure and snapped to half its length to be better wielded for someone of Telltale's stature. "This is more important'n a game of shadow thief! It's better'n any game ever!"

"Well, I suppose if it beats shadow thief, it must be important." Sneers rolled his eyes. "Care to tell me just what 'it' is, exactly?"

Either too naïve or too excited to pick up on Sneers' dripping sarcasm, Telltale hunched over and started to quiver, tiny fists clenched as a sign of unquenchable mirth. "It's The Duke an' Pipsqueak! They came back, an' they brought adults with 'em - big guys, like warriors n' stuff wearin' funny clothes!"

What?

Sneers eyebrows shot up into his forehead. Okay, so he hadn't been expecting that - and alright, yeah, that carried enough weight to be worth interrupting his meditation, even though it didn't make the disruption any less frustrating. Clambering to his feet, grunting, the monk reached over for his clothes, draped over an ornate Fire Nation footlocker Jet had claimed for his own after a particularly successful raid. He really didn't like where this was going.

Pipsqueak and The Duke, with warriors in tow? Too many things about that unsettled him. Why would they come back when they knew they weren't welcome anymore? Why would they bring outsiders - outsiders! - to the hideout, men who could probably be...

Sneers hopped into one pants leg and sighed through his nose. "Warriors? Are they Fire Nation? Do they have The Duke and Pipsqueak chained up?"

"No. I don't think so," Telltale admitted - the shame obvious, tangible in his voice, and Sneers shook his head. Telltale might have been the fastest look-out, but he also had the worst eye for detail, something that the monk had to drill into the boy's head repeatedly and without even the barest modicum of success. "They were wearin' blue an' green instead'a red."

Shrugging into his tunic, Sneers frowned into the dark, dank corner of Jet's - his - hut. He tightened a sash around his waist and began tying it, breathing through his nose - taking in the sweet, delectable scent of the honey wafting into the hut from beyond the door. Hong Ye's canopy stayed red, all year round - never changing, even maintaining their vibrancy through the winter months - it was one of the Earth Kingdom's most magnificent, most underspoken sights ever. Sneers knew that for a fact; he'd been to a few places, before Jet came into his life - and after, too. Not since they left, though...there just hadn't been enough time, and neither Skillet, Mortar nor Pestle were ready to assume active leadership.

He plopped down on the mattress laid against one wall, picking up his boots. Turning his attention to the young lookout, Sneers searched Telltale's face for a few seconds, trying to puzzle out what else to ask him. What was the proper course of action to follow from here...?

Pipsqueak and The Duke had never been as driven as any of the others against the Fire Nation - Jet's hatred had been pathological, Longshot seemed to harbor a personal grudge for them, and Smellerbee was a ferocious, animalistic little ball of fury that lusted for blood in response to the wrongs done upon her. Pipsqueak and The Duke didn't share their intensity, for sure (they and Sneers helped keep some semblance of balance in the core), but by the same token, neither did they have any love for their enemy. In the place of hate, they let loyalty to their nation drive them. They would have sooner gone to the Boiling Rock prison than defect, and any Fire Nation soldier foolish enough to bring Pipsqueak anywhere with them unchained was a soldier who risked having their senses knocked from their heads. Sneers had seen the goliath man do it before, and he had no doubt he'd do it again. Especially if The Duke were involved. So no, this didn't seem like a hostage crisis, but that didn't rule out the option that it could be a hostile takeover. Maybe things hadn't worked out at Omashu, after all; sure, they had left months ago, but that didn't mean their luck could have turned sour more recently.

Sneers had forced those two out the door before they could brush their teeth, so to speak. After a few days of saying they'd go without actually taking any steps to do so, Sneers took a proactive approach; the three hadn't parted ways on the best terms, and inviting those two into the treetops with their entire host of warriors would be poor choice. Pipsqueak and The Duke knew where the ziplines were located and could lead those following them into the Freedom Fighters' home regardless of Sneers' best intentions. If that were the case, let them try their hardest; he had no shortage of warriors on hand, but the fact that they hadn't yet spoke of more honorable intentions...that was something neither would understand a thing about. They must have had a new leader in their group.

Let it be a political battle, then. "Get the nearest sentries to their location and head off those warriors. Tell them they are forbidden to enter these woods, and that the leader of the Freedom Fighters will be with them shortly."

"Yes sir!" Telltale chirped, turning - and against the glint of the sun, Sneers could see him grinning, probably happy just to be on his way, out of Sneers' presence, but also to have been entrusted with such an important task.

Before the boy could take off, however, Sneers called out to him, drawing his attention back into the obsidian room. "Where are Skillet, Mortar and Pestle, anyway? I'll need them at my side should things...fall through."

"They're already waiting for you with everyone who's gathered. You better hurry up, 'cuz we can't keep pulling the droplines up forever!" With that, the youth fled Sneers' hut, leaving the monk alone once more.

Well, damn. Sneers stood up and reached for the red mantle draped over a chair, clasping it around his neck and grinning despite himself. So, they thought that far ahead? Smart kids. He'd have to ask around for whoever did that and treat them to a sweet bun.

SCENE DIVIDE

As soon as she'd heard - the instant word had reached her - Skillet bolted from her kitchen, leaving lunch in Kettle's care, because this was important, this was the good times coming back, this was...a relief, because once Pipsqueak and The Duke (and Jet and Smellerbee and Longshot) left, they took familiarity with them. Even though all of the other Freedom Fighters had managed to stick around following the incident with Gaipan and the dam, Sneers had changed their way of life so drastically that the group hardly felt like 'freedom fighters' at all. The name was just honorary at this point, a convenient handle to use because they were all used to it.

With the wind combing through her pigtails, warm and cold at the same time as it washed over her face, she cut through the trees, careful not to trip and lose her balance and fall because that would really be her luck, wouldn't it - ? Nothing else really seemed to register, just that she needed to get there, to make sure she'd heard right, and if Toad had been lying - if he'd been mistaken - he would find a lot of unpleasant things in his next meal, that was for sure -

The golden trunks of the trees zipped past, and if she hadn't spent so many years in this place she would probably have gotten lost - but she knew better, she knew which direction to take, and, and, yes, ahead she heard voices - the gold yielded, gave way to an open path - and and and yes! Pipsqueak and The Duke, both of them, it had to have been - too big, too boisterous to be a dream, to -

- foot caught on a stone -

- stumbled -

- tripped -

- ground rushing up, a blur of green and brown -

Before she face-planted, a pair of hands shot out, grabbing her beneath the arms, steadying her - Skillet blinked, looked up, and found sharp, blue eyes, the corners creased with the faintest hints of age lines, a mocha-colored face with high cheek bones and a narrow jaw -

"Careful there," the man said, his voice rugged, yet soothing. Skillet felt her breath come out hot - tight - and, and, hooooo boy. "Are you alright?"

"Y - um - I'm fine, thanks." Skillet said, felt heat flushing up to her face. "I'm Skillet."

"Hakoda. Can you stand up?"

"Oh - um - oh, sorry - " a sheepish laugh burbled past the chef's lips as she regained her footing and stood up, away from this - this delectable specimen of Water Tribe man. He couldn't have been out of his early thirties; Longshot would have called him 'the perfect sniping target,' maybe going so far as hiking his eyebrows and flashing the barest of smiles at Skillet, earning himself a death glare in return. She brushed off her knees and glanced up to Hakoda again (his eyes were so blue!), and for a moment, lost herself to them -

"Skillet!"

A pair of massive arms wrapped around her body and hefted her up into the air; Pipsqueak hugged her, pinning her against his chest and laughing, her body absorbed in his enormous warmth. She quaked with every guffaw, and even though her arms were stuck at her sides and it had become significantly harder to breath, she beamed and joined in the mirth, because - yes, this is why she had come running in the first place! Everything about Pipsqueak's actions carried the barest hint of familiarity with them, bringing the Good Times back with him. Before the Avatar, before the dam, when the Freedom Fighters had been so closely knit a family that even the greatest rupture could be repaired with time and (usually) sweet buns. (Except Spatula, but - well - why should she burden herself with those thoughts when home had started to regain its lost vitality?)

"How you been, Pipsqueak?" Skillet asked, grunting and wriggling in his grasp. "Can you let me down? Kinda suffocating here."

"Oh! Sorry." The behemoth grinned and eased Skillet to the ground, releasing her and setting his hands on her shoulders. She saw his eyes glimmer in the sunlight, how his smile carved a solid, white crescent into the jowls of his face, and - her breath caught in her throat because she had - she had missed this, she'd missed it so much! "Things have been pretty hectic - but I think we should wait for Sneers to get into all the details. Right, The Duke?"

The Duke appeared from behind Pipsqueak with Pestle close on his heels, a flush scrawled across her face and her hands folded in front of her, her attention affixed largely to the ground. (The poor girl was absolutely lost without her sister.) Skillet knelt down, the forest floor rugged and unyielding and warm beneath her knee, and placed her hands on The Duke's shoulders, much as Pipsqueak had done with hers. "Hey, it's my little scholar! Have you applied to Ba Sing Se University yet?" Skillet narrowed an eye and grinned.

"They wouldn't know what to do with me," The Duke quipped, beaming - that was always his answer to that question, and she felt close to bursting with - pride? Joy? Some obscenely sugary, fizzy amalgamation of both? "We heard you have a lot more mouths to feed - don't tell me you're still pulling kitchen duty alone. I'll smack Sneers around a bit for you if he is."

"Hooo, boy - it's not you he'd have to be afraid of." Skillet felt her grin curl and become devilish. "No, I have a staff now - an actual, full staff, with helpers and everything. It's a pretty sweet gig, all things considered."

"Ahh - " Pestle whispered, eyes going wide; Skillet followed her gaze in time to see Mortar - Pestle's younger, more brazen sister - drop down to the ground, kicking up a small spray of dust as she landed. The reaction form the older of the two sisters was immediate; she skittered over to Mortar, ducking behind the shorter Earthbender, as if her sister could shield her from the social pressure.

Of the two girls, Mortar was younger by about two years (she had to have been about ten, and Pestle was probably twelve). She was the shorter of the two and had the more robust, outgoing personality. While both girls claimed to be sisters, they looked so different that the other Freedom Fighters (Skillet included, mind) had their suspicions...still, you found family where you could, and calling them out on it didn't serve any positive purpose. While Pestle had a narrower face, almond-shaped eyes and a pointed nose, Mortar's features were generally rounder - not to mention that the younger girl was constantly covered in filth that, despite Skillet's best efforts to wrestle her into the lake for a bath, never seemed to wash off. Oddly enough, despite the fact that Pestle was much more self-conscious about her hygiene, she only ever wore shoes during the winter months, while Mortar refused to remove her boots for, well, everything.

Pestle relied on Mortar to be the courage she didn't have, to be her living backbone. The older girl was so shy, so easily mortified, that her dependence seemed almost symbiotic.

"You know, I'm starting to wonder if you get actual rain around here," Hakoda murmured, glancing up at the trees, a pensive frown tugging down on his lips. "Or does the number of children dropping out of trees compensate?"

Skillet grinned. "We get the occasional storm now and then. But mostly we rely on the kids."

"I see - "

Before Hakoda could finish, a massive, black missile struck the earth nearby, kicking up a cloud of dirt; this drew everyone's attention, including Hakoda and the other warriors, who had mostly gotten comfortable with children dropping in. From the center of the cloud rose Sneers, fully armored, a scowl carved out across his jaw and eyes narrowed. The casual aura in the air immediately congealed into tension, so thick and heavy as to be smothering.

Well, shit.

SCENE DIVIDE

Like a pair of wayward phantoms, Pipsqueak and The Duke had returned to Sneers' forest, trailing behind them warriors from the Earth Kingdom and Water Tribes. None of them had been on their guard when he decided to drop in amongst them, and - Sneers noted with a bitter taste swirling up from his stomach - neither were any of his Freedom Fighters. If this were a hostile take-over attempt, it was a damn poor one. Rising up from his crouch, Sneers focused exclusively at the former Freedom Fighters.

"Sneers," Pipsqueak said, the jovial nature he'd been exhibiting moments before evaporated, turning wary in its stead. "It's been a while."

"Not long enough." Sneers' voice took a dark tone, a scowl pulling down on his mouth. "What, Omashu didn't strike your fancy? You got so lost that you needed a warrior escort to lead you back home?"

"Circumstance is a funny thing," The Duke said, moving away from Skillet and Pipsqueak, stopping in front of Sneers and glaring up at the monk. "Before you get your loincloth bunched up, you need to hear us out."

"Hmph." Sneers glowered at the runt, matching one sour look with another. "Awfully presumptuous of you, you glorified shoulder gremlin. I don't need to do anything for you; I have business to tend to, and seeing the huge precession of warriors in your wake, I wouldn't be surprised if you led a Fire Nation soldier or two right to us."

"Er - if I may," cut in one Water Tribe warrior, with a chiseled face and frost-blue eyes. The warrior walked over to Sneers, stopping beside The Duke. "My name is Hakoda, of the Southern Water Tribe. We come as envoys of the Avatar's - "

"Oh, the Avatar." Sneers crossed his arms over his chest. "The same one whose Waterbending wench froze our former leader to a tree, if I recall. He's also supposed to be dead, according to our scouts."

Sneers saw Pipsqueak and The Duke cringe - draw back, as if he had lashed the air with a fire whip -

"That 'wench,'" Hakoda said, eyes narrowing, "is my daughter."

Sneers snorted, his trademark namesake curling to life on his face. "If you're fishing for an apology, you won't get one."

The monk saw Hakoda clench his jaw - saw the muscles in his cheek working, just beneath his skin - and for a second, Sneers thought the warrior would actually lash out, strike him, and, well, whatever unavailing diplomatic nonsense they'd come here for would draw to a sudden, violent end. The Duke, though - he reached up and grabbed Hakoda's arm, and a glimmer of responsibility flittered behind his eyes, the importance of his mission taking dominance over his burbling anger.

"Sneers, quit bein' a jerkbelly," Pipsqueak said, frowning. "We wouldn't come back if it wasn't important. We need your help."

"You need my help less than you need a bad rash of poison ivy where the sun don't shine." Sneers shook his head. "Whatever violent conquest you've dedicated yourselves to, I'll have none of it. My Freedom Fighters are men, women and children of peace, not the brutish, bloodthirsty savages Jet raised them to be."

"Jet was more of a man than you'll ever be, if you've got a mindset like that," Pipsqueak rumbled, and - was the behemoth actually getting mad? That would be the day. "He saw that the war was a long-term deal, he prepared us to survive through all that. And you're just gonna throw it away because you didn't like him?"

Sneers narrowed his eyes, ready to shoot the man down, to get these barbarians out of his forest, away from his charges - except, Skillet, moving from the corner of his eye, grabbing him by the shoulder and dragging him back, away, a fake smile plastered on her face and aimed at the forest's intruders. "Excuse us for a second!"

It was an impressive feat, moving somebody as bulky as Sneers against his will, and he figured Skillet deserved that much praise - but it didn't stop him from shaking her off, from glowering at her. Between clenched teeth, he hissed, "What the hell is your malfunction?"

Skillet's pigtails bobbled as she muttered, "Look, I know it's your forte to be asinine, but it should even be obvious to you that Pipsqueak and The Duke coming back after they lost faith in Jet speaks volumes. They're here for a specific reason, and regardless of their choices, they are still our friends. So help me, if you turn them away before we even hear what they've got to offer, I swear to the Spirits you'll find dung in every bowl of ramen I make you for the rest of the month."

Sneers scowled, his ferocity rising up to meet the chef's, his molars grinding together. "I made noodles plenty of times before you came along, so don't think there's anything stopping me from raiding the kitchen. No, I've made my choice, and - "

Another hand, this time on his hip - smaller, gentle, and Sneers whipped his head down to see Pestle, with Mortar at her side, looking up to Sneers with her brow knit.

"What is it?" He hissed.

"Sneers - I think Skillet's right," Pestle murmured, eyes flickering over to Mortar; the younger Earthbender nodded, grinning, filling Pestle with enough confidence to cause the girl to actually, visibly swell. "I like The Duke, I like Pipsqueak - and, and we respected their decision to leave, and - the least we could do, the least we owe them, I mean, is let them speak. I - I think."

The monk raised a finger, ready to protest - stopped - sighed, because as loath as he was to admit it, he'd made Mortar and Pestle his second-in-commands for a reason. Mortar had always been capable of seeing clearly from Point A to Point B, and Pestle could intuit things that Sneers and her sister couldn't; Skillet, while unofficially sharing the same role as the sisters, was Sneers' intellectual peer, and he depended on her to keep from going insane.

Okay. Fine, he would let them blather on about whatever it is they wanted.

Turning away from Skillet and his lieutenants, Sneers fixed Hakoda with his attention and said, "Okay - say your piece, but be quick."

Hakoda coughed - cleared his throat - and met Sneers in the eye. "It's no surprise that you know about the Avatar's demise - but the truth is he survived the incursion of Ba Sing Se, and is traveling incognito with my daughter and son through the Fire Nation." His eyes narrowed again at the mention of her precious daughter, and Sneers resisted the urge to smirk. "We're scouring the Earth Kingdom for allies the Avatar has made on his journey, and - "

" - and after Tons of Fun and the Gremlin over there told you about us, you decided to try your luck here." Sneers crossed his arms over his chest and glowered not at Hakoda, but at Pipsqueak and The Duke. "Cute. And you actually thought it would work?"

"Ba Sing Se's fallen, Sneers!" The Duke clenched a tiny fist and held it over his chest, throwing the other arm out. "There'll be a solar eclipse in a little over a month; no sun means no Firebending. The Fire Nation will be defenseless, and we have no formal army to take to them. We need all the help we can get, and - "

" - you wasted your time coming here." Sneers scowled. "I can't just up and leave; even if we take every Freedom Fighter, I doubt you can accommodate them, and I'm not about to halve our forces to commit to your brutish war! My Freedom Fighters are peaceful, and we're working to achieve completion through physical and spiritual enlightenment. My Freedom Fighters will weather the war. We'll endure no matter what the outcome, and - "

"Bull." Pipsqueak shook his head and looked past Sneers, to Skillet, Pestle and Mortar. "You don't really believe that, do you?"

Sneers glanced down to his side - to Mortar, and Pestle close behind her, the older sister's eyes going wide. Mortar frowned, concern flitting behind her eyes, and - and for the first time in as long as Sneers had known them, the more forward of the two looked at the most withdrawn, bewildered. "I - do we, Pest? We do, right?"

"I, I, I - " Pestle's face flushed red, and she backed away from Mortar. "I - if - um - if, if Sneers says it's right, then - then I guess it is, even if it's not what Jet would do - "

"Y - yeah." Mortar nodded, and this time Pestle had been the one to instill her with confidence, their usual roles reversed. She turned to Pipsqueak and The Duke and planted her fists on her hips. "We follow Sneers, now, because - because he was the one to stay behind while Jet and you and the rest left - abandoned...abandoned us, to fulfill your own selfish needs - "

"Stop."

Sneers' eyes went wide; The Duke stepped forward and grabbed his helmet, pulling it off and clenching it in one hand. "Is that what you've amounted to now? Mortar, Pestle - you two were some of the freest thinkers in the forest! You'd go off and start building things without Jet or Pipsqueak's say-so because you knew it had to be done. You designed most of Skillet's new kitchen by yourselves! And even though you don't realize it, you were some of the best people in bringing out flaws in any of Jet's plans, short of Sneers, Skillet and Viper. Sure, you followed behind Jet - but he cared for us, even if he was a little twisted. But you were still unique! You still held true to your perspectives! So why has that changed now?"

"Um...I..." Mortar glanced back to Pestle again, the older sister giving an uncomfortable shrug. "That's..."

"Are you quite finished questioning my leadership, The Duke?" Sneers glowered at the boy, and though he refused to show it, his heart thundered under his ribs and his throat tingled. No, no - he'd been afraid of this! Not even five minutes into their conversation and the ex-Freedom Fighters had already started to usurp him, and maybe this hadn't been such a shoddy take-over attempt after all. "Because if you're just going to antagonize me now, then the hell out of my forest."

The Duke fixed his gaze to Sneers for only a moment - the fire, behind those round eyes! Smellerbee would have been proud, but Sneers wasn't used to it, The Duke he remembered had been warmer, friendlier, more - more childlike. What had life on the road done to strengthen his resolve so much? Before Sneers could counter it - could fix him with one of his namesakes - The Duke turned to Skillet, his eyebrows hiked. "And - what about you, Skillet? Do you buy this - this crap about sitting on your butt and letting the rest of the world fight for you? You were the military history buff, does this even seem like the right course of action - "

"I said can it!" Sneers growled.

"Sneers, I..." Skillet began. Sneers whirled as hesitation wriggled up into her voice; the cook met his gaze for a second, eyebrows knit together, before turning her attention to the trees up above. She - she couldn't think otherwise, could she? No - no, Sneers needed her to agree, because if she didn't, then his goals would feel so much more distant, if not unobtainable. He had to protect his children, the people who had seen enough to trust him with the responsibility of leadership. Sighing, Skillet admitted, "Historically speaking...nothing good has ever come from a capable body of fighters sitting out of a war. But..." She brought her gaze down to Sneers, and her eyes shimmered with - strength, with compassion, and the monk knew he still had her as an ally. "Sneers is protecting our family the best way he can."

"..." The Duke seemed to wilt a little in his defeat, and he stepped back and slid his helmet back on. "Fair enough, I guess. I don't agree...I'm actually kinda disappointed to hear all this...but I'll respect your opinions. Come on, guys...we're looking at a lost cause."

Yes! Sneers felt a triumphant smirk wriggle across his face - that was it, then, the invaders had been repelled and the Freedom Fighters - his Freedom Fighters - could continue towards achieving zen. "Goodbye then," he jeered, his cheeks tingling as the smirk grew cockier. "This time, I mean it. Get out and stay out."

"Very well," Hakoda said, making a sweeping motion for the men in his wake. "We're moving on. Our next stop is Foggy Swamp to the south - "

"Wait."

Pipsqueak reached out - placed a massive hand on Hakoda's shoulder, keeping the Water Tribe man from turning, from leaving, and Spirits damn it all why were they still here? Couldn't Bigguns see that they'd lost their chance to win Sneers over, to...

"Listen," the behemoth said, fixing Sneers - not Skillet, not Mortar, not Pestle, not any other Freedom Fighter, just Sneers - with a sobering gaze. "We didn't come here exclusively to cause you trouble. But I think you, more than anyone else here, should realize how ruthless the Fire Nation is."

The monk felt his smirk falter - shift - melt into a frown, his brow furrow, and where the hell was the giant going with this?

"It's great that you're teaching everyone to find themselves, to be whole and all that stuff, but the Fire Nation doesn't give an elephant rat's rear about that sorta thing." Pipsqueak shook his head, a frown - so unnatural, on him - carving a line across his broad face. "My village was neutral in the conflict. We didn't have any warriors, or any resources worth taking, but that didn't stop the Fire Nation from comin' through and having their way with us. And you can't possibly forget how the Fire Nation doesn't really give a crap about children. If you have..." Pipsqueak's eyes narrowed. "...then you're worse off than Jet ever was. At least he died fighting for - "

Pipsqueak stopped mid-sentence, a grimace pulling down on his face. The anger edging into Sneers' consciousness - the scrambling irritation clawing up his back, his neck - evaporated, gone, so sudden, and he almost pitched forward, the world yanked out from under him like a blanket. How - what? The monk's throat tightened - eyes shot wide open, and, and, Pipsqueak wouldn't lie about that sort of thing just to get Sneers on his side, would he? No, no - he wouldn't, not even if The Duke or Hakoda had told him to, because he was too kind-hearted, too honest - and - and -

Jet was dead?

SCENE DIVIDE

No - no, no, no, it couldn't be true! Pestle saw - she saw Sneers stumble, almost fall, saw Skillet draw stiff and arch her shoulders, saw Mortar - slouch down onto her knees, her eyes wide, mouth curled - and, around, all around, the other gathered Freedom Fighters whispering, murmuring amongst themselves, the ones who had known Jet personally, and the ones that had only heard stories told by the others, and - no, Jet couldn't be gone, he couldn't, and before she knew it, a low moan scrawled up from her throat, clambering up, out, away, inhuman, almost cat-like, and - and, eyes stinging, vision blurring, breath hot and heavy, like - like being suffocated, and, and she, before she knew it, she ran, she threw herself at Pipsqueak, and all sound was gone, just, just, throat so raw, fists hammering against the man's stomach, she pounded him, each blow - they might have been hard, couldn't tell because everything just hurt, and -

"You're lying!" She bellowed, throwing punch after punch, and, and how could Pipsqueak, how could the nicest guy in the world, say something so venomous, so wrong? Jet had been the one to find her - her and Mortar, when Mortar could barely talk or walk on her own, had been the one to find them in that wheat field and bring them out, away, home - to the forest, such a blurred, old memory by this point, but she treasured it, as sooty and pale as it'd become, it was because of Jet that she and Mortar had survived, had grown this much, had become a family, and in turn part of an even larger family, and Jet had always been right, had - had been the father Pestle didn't remember - "Jet can't be dead! He - he wouldn't die, he's too strong an' smart an' brave an' - he can't be!"

"I'm sorry," Pipsqueak whispered, his voice heavy; he rested a massive hand on Pestle's head, heavy yet gentle, rubbing her - and, and she buried her face into his side, choking, sobbing, and, and, no, it couldn't be, it couldn't, it...

SCENE DIVIDE

The world had probably been pulled out from beneath Skillet, because - because one moment, Pipsqueak had said that, hahaha, that Jet was dead, and that was funny, it was hilarious, what a great joke -

- and the next, she was sitting down, her ass sore, the palms of her hands raw, and it was one hell of a prank for the planet to up-end itself long enough to make her fall that hard.

The tension that had been forming between Sneers and The Duke and Pipsqueak's warriors - it had been thick, permeable, suffocating. All it took to disperse that, to invert that, to make her stomach pluck and become nil, was six little, unimpressive words that meant nothing alone but had a tree-shattering impact when strung together in the correct context. She saw Pestle charge at Pipsqueak - saw Hakoda recoil, his brow furrowed and eyes sad - but, but that was all through a haze, a fog, an itchy, cotton blanket cast over all her senses, couldn't, couldn't hear, couldn't smell the poignant honey flitting through the air, couldn't feel the ground, just pain and numb tingling in her limbs, couldn't, couldn't breathe properly, every breath slow and sweltering and labored and, and her eyes stung, threatened to -

SCENE DIVIDE

A collective, almost inhuman mewl lofted up into the air, low and haunting and testicle-shriveling. The other Freedom Fighters - lurking at the edge of the path Sneers and the rest stood in, hunkered down on the tree branches above and around. It went so - so deep, scooping a pit out of his gut, almost made his heart sick, that to Sneers it felt as if the entire forest mourned the passing of the shaggy-haired teen with a roguish smirk and curved swords and charisma and a stalk of wheat or a twig clenched between his teeth. Sure, Sneers had had to play the iron fist to Jet's wildboy attitude, had to be the Bad Guy in the Freedom Fighters, and the two hadn't always gotten along, and the monk had to drive his former leader away after Gaipan, but - but Jet had been the one to find Sneers, to pull him into this lifestyle, to pull all of these orphans in, to give Sneers something to care about, to be passionate about...

His life would have been a lot emptier if not for Jet's intervention, and despite their differences, Sneers knew he owed his former leader that much. Plus, outright denying Jet's influence, his presence...it would be wrong somehow, and losing him...

Gone, out of his life, was one thing. Dead and gone from everything...that was heavier.

Pestle had stopped screaming, instead sobbing quietly into Pipsqueak's stomach, and - and Sneers' jaw and tongue worked, but no sound came out, just a faint whisper. He coughed - cleared his throat - and finally, the words came together right, taking form. "How..." he paused, drew a deep breath, hot and raw. "How did he die?"

"An Earthbender murdered him in Ba Sing Se." Pipsqueak glanced away, but not before Sneers saw the sadness hunkered down behind the behemoth's eyes, creasing his face, his brow furrowed. A bittersweet smile curled up on his lips. "Hell of an irony, isn't it? Going down to somebody from his own country after he fought so hard to defend it. Yeah - he didn't always have the best methods, but he was passionate. You know that as well as I do."

"It - no average Earthbender could have done that," Sneers blurted, self-moderation lost to emotions and he hated that, he wasn't like Pestle, he didn't wear his heart on his sleeve. Before he could put the stopper in, the words flowed - just, an unending stream, and he felt like a kid all over again for it. "I mean, it's not like Jet would have been caught off his guard, and the guy to do it must have - must have been pretty powerful." He sighed - clamped his jaw to shut up, to keep the needless verbalization back, and this wasn't how he was supposed to do things!

From behind him - Skillet spoke up, her voice reedy and quavering; Sneers turned to face her, saw that she'd slouched down to the ground, her shoulders and back arched. "Did he go down swinging? Jet wouldn't have made it easy."

"He gave 'im hell," Pipsqueak said, keeping his gaze averted. "Him, and Smellerbee, and Longshot."

Sneers' eyes went wide again, and - Pestle jolted in Pipsqueak's grasp - the monk had totally forgotten about those two in the wake of Jet. How could - the three of them operated so well as a unit that the murder became more surreal, a story, a fairy tale almost. Murders, plural...

"We dunno if they made it," Pipsqueak explained, massaging Pestle's shoulder absentmindedly. "Aang and the rest of them had been with 'em at the time - all of them, trying to save the Avatar's bison. Longshot told 'em - told 'em, actually spoke - to go, to save Appa, while they stuck with Jet."

Well - that was it, wasn't it...? Sneers could count the times he'd heard Longshot actually speak on one hand, and every time he had, his words had always carried such strength - such power. If he'd told the Avatar and his entourage to leave him and the other Freedom Fighters alone, they would have listened.

Sighing, rubbing his sinuses, Sneers bowed his head. That - all of this, Jet, and Longshot, and Smellerbee - it changed everything, but it changed nothing. The monk opened his eyes, met Pipsqueak's, and repeated, "We're done here. Get the hell out of my forest. Leave my Freedom Fighters to their peace"

Pipsqueak's eyes went wide - mouth agape with shock - but at last, he set his jaw and pressed his lips in a flat line and nodded. He released Pestle, turned to face the assembled warriors. "Let's go, guys - "

"Hold it."

Pipsqueak did - and Sneers, who had likewise turned away, ready to leave, to put these ghosts behind him once more - and before the monk realized it, The Duke had thrust himself forward, stopping just short of Sneers, tiny hands clenched tightly into fists, eyes narrowed and flickering with - fury? The Duke never got mad, and seeing him in such proximity - jaw working, body quivering - it stirred something in the monk that made him freeze in place. "What is it, Tiny?" He said, his lips curling into his namesake sneer. "If you're still trying to appeal to me - "

" - what you choose to do, or not to do, isn't my business anymore," The Duke interrupted, his lips parting, teeth ground together. "But you have the audacity to turn away from this - from us - from the war, when good people are dying! You want to seclude the Freedom Fighters, section them off from the world? You're a complete dunce if you think that'll work! Jet died, Sneers, he died and there's nothing we can do to bring him back, and here you are taking his murder in vain. Take the initiative! Don't turn away from the reason the Freedom Fighters even exist! You're a capable leader and you've more than tripled the group's strength without the rest of us here. At summer's end, Sozin's Comet will enter the planet's atmosphere and increase a Firebender's strength tenfold, and you know they aren't going to sit around with their thumbs up their butts if they have that sort of power."

A comet - what? Okay, whatever, that wasn't important right now, Sneers had had enough of this group. "Are you telling me how to lead? Is that how you get your kicks, kid?" Sneers leaned forward, shoving his face into The Duke's, and the ex-Freedom Fighter jerked back, his round, cherubic face twisting with his self-proclaimed righteousness. He hated being called 'kid,' but for all his intelligence, he was still just an uppity eight-year-old, and he had no right butting into the monk's personal business like this. "One day you'll look back on this little outburst of yours and realize how dumb you sound. If you expect me to dedicate myself to barbarism, you're nuts."

"Sneers, I don't expect that from you because you're too stubborn to say otherwise." The Duke straightened his helmet and frowned. "But I do expect you to find balance."

Balance...

"Sneers..." Skillet's voice was soft, hushed from behind him, and her hand rested on his shoulder. "I - I think The Duke is right. 'War is an ugly thing, but not the ugliest of things. The decayed and degraded state of moral and patriotic feeling which thinks that nothing is worth war is much worse. The person who has nothing for which he is willing to fight, nothing which is more important than his own personal safety, is a miserable creature and has no chance of being free unless made and kept so by the exertions of better men than himself.' You know that as well as I do."

The monk felt his cheeks flush - his ears tingle - and, no, not Skillet, they'd gotten her quipping historians at him, and that sort of thing only happened when they stood at opposite ends of an - of an argument - and - no, he couldn't lose Skillet to them! She was the only one capable of understanding him, of appreciating his point of view, and he felt a snarl working across his face, wriggling to life -

"Bones tired of no-fighting!" One of the younger Freedom Fighters called from the trees above. "Bones want to bust Fire Nation skulls!"

Beside him, Mortar looked around, her brow knit, confliction skipping 'round behind her eyes. Bones' declaration had set off a wave of dull murmurs across the gathered Freedom Fighters, and some of Hakoda's warriors even added to the cacophony with their own chatter. After a moment, the young Earthbender turned her attention to Sneers, frowning. "I - I believe in you, Sneers. You'll do right by us. You always have."

Well, that was one vote of confidence. If he couldn't have Skillet, then Mortar and Pestle would do in her stead, and Pestle always agreed with Mortar; Sneers turned her attention to the older of the two sisters, her blond hair - quaking? Her shoulders hunched and head bowed, standing between Pipsqueak and Sneers, she might have been sobbing, silently, but - after a moment, she turned to Sneers, and the monk felt a stone drop into his stomach at her expression. Such fierce independence - alight with a strange fire he'd never seen in the girl, a timid child who hid behind her younger sister's shoulder as if afraid to support herself.

SCENE DIVIDE

No - Jet had been her, and Smellerbee had been her - the two of them had been so important, it was hard to put it into words, heck, it was beyond words, and losing Jet was enough, but they, they couldn't both be dead! It wasn't right, it wasn't fair, and - and it had -

"'I - I believe in you, Sneers. You'll do right by us. You always have.'"

Mortar - she supported Sneers, and Sneers would - retreat, go back to the trees, hide himself away. A life of peace, of becoming whole. And - and if Mortar believed in him, then that made him right...right...?

Jet and Smellerbee and Longshot had all died fighting for the Earth Kingdom, and Sneers didn't want any part of that. But Mortar was always right, Mortar couldn't be - could she be - wrong this time?

If - if they were willing to die for the war...

No.

No, this time, Mortar was wrong, she was, she was, and Pestle whipped her head to Sneers, her ears hot and itchy, her eyes stinging, pending more - more tears -

"I - we have to fight," Pestle said, and she saw Sneers backstep, brow furrowed, a scowl curling down on her face. "And if it - if it means I have to do it alone - if I have to go with Pipsqueak and The Duke to make a difference - then I will, and nothing either of you can say will - will stop me." And, and, oh no, she'd said she'd - she'd leave Mortar, no, no, she'd never leave Mortar, she hadn't when they were children, and she wouldn't now, but she'd said it, and - caught up in the moment -

"Pestle..." Mortar shook her head, blinked - Pestle couldn't tell if she was, was mad, or upset, or proud, or what, but - but before anything more could come of it - a hand on her shoulder, strong and tanned and adult -

The Water Tribe man.

His grip was - solid, yes, but not painful, he didn't apply a lot of pressure. He was so sure - so confident, that was the right way to put it. Pestle looked up to meet his eyes - something she had so much trouble with normally, but they were so blue and wise and weathered - and she felt, felt some sort of serenity washing forward from him, over her, calming her - not dousing the fire that had flared up inside her chest, just, helping it, easing it.

"Your name is Pestle, right?" Hakoda asked, his mouth set into a flat line, brows knit - but just barely. "I appreciate your bravery - your passion. But your place is here - " he waved a hand around, sweeping the trees, the Freedom Fighters, " - and I would hate to take somebody away from such a loving family."

"But - but I can fight, I can do my part to help the Avatar and the Earth Kingdom!" This - this standing up on her own thing - it was hard, so difficult, because, first she'd said she wanted to go, then she knew she didn't mean it, and Hakoda had given her the out, but she - she still said it, and, and - she glanced over to Mortar, felt her cheeks puckering, the corners of her eyes stinging all over again -

"Sneers has already made his decision to stay in the forest, and I don't think you should stand against that, especially since it's clear that he has your protection at heart." Hakoda gave a small, careful smile, and - something in Pestle settled, she felt...calm, relaxed, confident that, even though she'd said one thing and meant another, Hakoda kept that escape window open for her - the chance to go back, to stay at Mortar's side and never, ever leave her.

SCENE DIVIDE

Well.

That was it, then, wasn't it?

Skillet had gone against Sneers - Sneers, who depended on her to be her lieutenant (in a fashion, not the same way he did Mortar and Pestle), Sneers, who - as Hakoda said - wanted nothing more than to keep the other Freedom Fighters safe, Sneers, who had stayed behind in the forest when Jet and everyone else left. It left her feeling - accomplished, her heart racing and throat tingling, so difficult to have done following the news that - that Jet and Longshot and Smellerbee were...

She didn't like feeling that way, though. She was exhausted, emotionally and mentally, her brain slogged through a mire of crap and sludge, her eyes felt dry, her sockets threatening to shake them out. In siding with Pipsqueak and The Duke, Skillet had pulled away one of the crucial support pillars Sneers needed, and Pestle agreeing with her had been another blow to the monk's - security, his shell, his ego. He didn't show it - he was remarkably stoic, his jaw squared, eyes narrowed, mouth set into a straight line - but Skillet had spent enough time around the man to know that her betrayal had cut him to the quick.

She wanted for all the world to - to apologize, to take it back, but even if it would have done any good (it wouldn't), that wouldn't make The Duke and Pipsqueak any less right. She'd been turning away from it for so long, and that made her feel scummy, too. But maybe - maybe, this would get Sneers to realize that they needed to take the initiative? Or was that hoping for too much? Argh - she wanted to grab her pigtails and pull, because maybe the pain would absorb the guilt, the - the shame? No, definitely not shame, because as terrible as she felt, she knew that she was right. History had told the same story over and over again, after all.

Still - she waited, tried to feel out Sneers' reaction, to preempt it, even though whatever she did would be futile, but if she didn't try -

"Thank you."

Sneers' voice shook Skillet from her brainjumble, and the monk - impenetrable, a fortress of a man in body and mind - walked forward, past The Duke, past Pipsqueak, finally coming to a stop in front of Hakoda. And for a second - she thought, maybe Sneers would lose his cool, would slug the man, and by the way Pipsqueak, The Duke, Hakoda's warriors all tensed up, the thought ran through their minds, too. Hakoda, though, he did not flinch, he did not shy away, simply meeting Sneers' charcoal gaze with his own frosty, ice-blue one.

"You've managed to do something nobody has managed in a long, long time." Sneers kept his mouth even, though Skillet could see the way his nostrils flared, his eyes wrinkled in the corners. "No wonder you're a leader of men and women. You can change perspectives. Worlds. I can't leave, nor can I send any of my own men and women with you, but...you've given me much to think about." He extended a hand, and - what the hell was he - ?

Hakoda looked down at the hand and - paused - was he going to take it? - grasped Sneers' wrist with his own hand. Sneers returned the grip, and the older warrior smiled.

That was - it was the Water Tribe's way of bowing, just as the Earth Kingdom and Fire Nation had their own ways to do it, and Sneers had - he'd just gone and given that to Hakoda.

"We've got to move on, then." Hakoda turned to look at Pipsqueak, and then The Duke, the two Freedom Fighters stuck between Sneers and the other Freedom Fighters. Skillet felt her eyebrows arch - an unsaid, invisible question had been posed in that glance, and - and - he was giving the two an opportunity to...

"..." After a slight pause, The Duke cast his gaze to the ground and gave a small chuckle. "I think we'd better go, too. We've committed ourselves to the Avatar's cause - we can't back out now. But..." he looked back up again, to Sneers, to Mortar and Pestle, to Skillet, "it was great seeing everyone again."

And - before she even really knew it, Pipsqueak, The Duke, Hakoda, and all them - they marched through the assembled Freedom Fighters, shifting through - disappearing around a tree -

Gone, taking the Good Times with them, and the chef felt even more hollow because of it.

Skillet turned to Sneers - wanted to ask, 'what now?' She had the sneaking suspicion, though, that not even he knew, and as he turned, wordless, stalking away from - from her, from Mortar, from Pestle - swallowed up by the trees framing the path, she knew that she was right.

On all sides, the Freedom Fighters murmured - whispered - confused, worried, concerned for what the future might hold for them. The air was still thick with the scent of honey, and bugs hummed and buzzed, and birds still sang...but it all just felt so empty in the wake of Pipsqueak and The Duke's visit, and...

...she straightened her apron and cleared her throat. Time to get back to work.