Korra had accurately predicted Tenzin's reaction. She didn't understand the airbender's fierce opposition to Tarrlock; nor did she understand his apparent sympathy for the Equalist supporters, if not the Equalists themselves. "You have to try to understand," he'd insisted, again and again. Korra didn't know what she was supposed to try to understand. How could any of them think that robbing people of their bending was a good thing? It was like, like celebrating amputations.

Eventually Tenzin relented, after extracting a promise from Korra that she'd at least ask his counsel on task force activities. Korra felt like she owed him at least that much. And besides, Tenzin understood politics in an intuitive way. Only pondering the radio's cheerful, continuous broadcasts made her think that political savvy would be a useful skill. In a city like this, all news was third- or fourth-hand; impressions and opinions would matter in a way that they couldn't in the small Water Tribe.

He'd also made her promise to meet with his friend—a "non-bender advocate," whatever that meant. Korra had shrugged and acquiesced. It would almost certainly be a waste of time, but then, she had a lot of time lately.

The next morning, Korra rose early for meditation. This time she managed to arrive at the same time as Tenzin and Jinora. Her new attention to meditation again went unremarked, and Korra threw herself into it. Before long she was struggling not to gnash her teeth and hit things. Meditation wasn't like fighting, or bending; she couldn't just slam her head against a wall until she improved. Instead, the harder she tried, the more that sense of inner clarity slipped through her fingers. The only thing that kept her seated, hands curling into fists on her knees, was the steady ache where her bending used to be.

When Tenzin called a halt, Korra opened her eyes and sighed. This was really not the kind of practice that she enjoyed.

A note from Tarrlok was waiting for her on the kitchen table; it had been delivered with the morning's mail. Korra opened it, frowning. It was an invitation to a press conference, to announce the new task force. "It's tomorrow," she told Tenzin.

Her teacher hummed. "All right," he said. "Be careful, Korra. The press is not your friend, you know. They'll want to ask you about your…encounter…with Amon."

She hated the way he talked around that night. "I know," she said. "It's okay." Korra smiled crookedly. "I can use it, anyway," she said. "It makes for a good start to a revenge story."

"That's what I'm afraid of," Tenzin said. His voice had sunk into that I'm-an-old-grumpy-codger lecturing tone. "The Avatar can't be focused on revenge, Korra, it isn't right."

"Yeah, yeah," she said. "Don't worry about me. But the press will still eat it up, right?"

Tenzin sighed again. Korra smiled fondly and clapped him on the shoulder on her way out.

—

Her days were empty without bending practice, and after morning meditation she was itching for some activity. Korra took Naga on a walk through the city. Safe from her high vantage point, Korra took the opportunity to really observe. She was still getting used to the sheer scale and size of things. The roads were crowded with speeding Satomobiles, more traditional carriages, and pedestrians alike, and nobody seemed to quite agree on the rules for getting along. Korra guided Naga into the thick of it, peering down with interest. Only the most absurdly gaudy carriages were on a similar height.

On one level, the city was dazzling, full of delights and new inventions. The Satomobiles and their built-in radios were incredible, as were the towering skyscrapers and humming electric lines. Looking down, though, Korra noted the vast numbers of pan-handlers with unease. Plenty of them were kids, or old, or visibly disabled. The Southern Water Tribe would never force a vulnerable member to fend for themselves like that; orphan children were placed with other families, and everyone pitched in to care for those unable to work due to old age or infirmity. When an old woman in rags approached with an outstretched cup, Korra didn't wait for her to ask. She reached into her pockets and dug out some change, wishing that she had more. "Take care, grandmother," she said.

The old woman smiled at her. "Spirits bless, Avatar," she replied. Korra shook her head. She didn't feel particularly blessed at the moment.

She stopped Naga in front of a small herb shop and dismounted. If she was going to wander around, she might as well make herself useful; she knew that Pema was running short on some supplies. Inside, the shop was dim and crowded, its shelves filled with jars of obscure, pickled items, bundles of dried herbs, and small vials of powdered supplies, all labeled in minute handwriting. Korra smiled, breathing in the musty smell of plant matter. For her, herb shops brought to mind friendly healers and cozy infirmaries.

"Hullo," a voice called, from behind the shelves. "I can assist you, just give me one moment, please."

"Take your time," Korra replied, leaning down to inspect a jar that claimed to contain buffalo-yak blubber. What would you use that for?

A few minutes later, the diminutive shopkeeper appeared, panting. "Sorry," he said, "I was just putting away a new shipment. How can I help you?"

Korra told him what she was looking for, and the small man led her briskly down the aisles. As they turned a corner, Korra noticed a small child hurriedly ducking into a different aisle. "Who's that?" she asked.

"Hmm? Oh, you mean Gila. She's a family friend." The shopkeeper smiled, a little sadly. "I'm looking after her, since her parents aren't…available."

Korra frowned. She wasn't sure what was behind that euphemism, but it wasn't her place to ask. At least there was someproof of community spirit here.

The bell on the door clattered, and the shopkeeper looked up. "Hey!" The voice was feminine, with the rough accent Korra was beginning to associate with Republic City's poorer folk. "Old man Lou, are you here?"

"Yes," the shopkeeper—Lou, Korra noted—replied, raising his voice. "Just a moment." Urgently, he turned to Korra. "Keepquiet, and stay here," he ordered her in a low voice. Korra frowned. Lou scurried away, and she followed slowly, crouching out of sight behind a display of soup flavorings in the front of the shop.

"Is the kid here?" the stranger's voice demanded.

"No," Lou said. "I have no idea where she is, I'm sorry, have you asked her aunt—"

"He lies," a second, masculine voice said calmly. To Korra's horror she heard a gurgling sound, like someone choking. As she stood, she saw the girl from earlier—Gila—peeking out from behind another display. The girl's eyes were wide, her golden irises shimmering in the dim light. Her hands were shaking.

Korra put a finger to her lips. Gila nodded, her face far too solemn for her age. Steeling herself, Korra stepped out to face the newcomers. There were two of them, a pale, skinny man and a burly, dark-skinned woman. The woman had Lou by the throat. "Hey," she said, conversationally.

The man's eyebrows shot up. "Well," he said. "If it isn't the Avatar."

"Let him go," Korra said.

The woman laughed. "As though you have any authority around here," she sneered. She turned, wrapping the shopkeeper in a headlock so that they were both facing Korra. "Now, you just go mind your own business, you hear?"

"I'm fine," Lou wheezed. "Fine, Avatar."

She refused to dignify that with a response. "Maybe it's none of my business," she said, "but I'm sure Chief Beifong would be interested."

Both newcomers sniggered at that. Korra didn't get was so funny. Still snickering, the man said, "If you think the police care about the Triads, you've got another thing coming, Avatar. Why don't you study up a bit before you come sticking your neb in our private affairs?"

Korra narrowed her eyes. The man didn't seem like an ordinary thug; he'd be a bender, then. As for the woman, she looked more like ordinary muscle, but that wasn't a guarantee. At least she didn't have any weapons that Korra could see. She wondered if they'd heard that she'd lost her bending. If she was lucky, they might still think that she was a threat.

"Think fast," she chirped, sliding into a crouch. When she whipped her leg upward, she was gratified to see the skinny man jerk backwards and raise a flame shield. Instead of lunging at him, she reversed her kick and struck upwards at the woman's jaw. The woman thrust Lou aside and dodged backwards, barely avoiding Korra's kick. Korra's eyes flicked over to Lou, who was sprawled in a pile with fallen jars. Sorry, she thought, miserably.

Her mental apology was cut short by the firebender, who lunged forwards, his hands wreathed in flame. Korra cursed and leapt aside, goosebumps rising on her skin as she felt the searing heat radiating from his hands. Her back pressed against the wall. "What's wrong, girl?" the firebender demanded. "Where are your oh-so-scary Avatar skills?"

"Not worth wasting on you," she retorted. Interesting; he was keeping his fire in careful check. Probably, they didn't want the whole street to go up in flames. Could she use that to her advantage?

Think, Korra! If she had her bending, she'd be able to waterbend her way out of this with her hands behind her back, literally.

"You're bluffing," the man said, his voice almost…surprised. What was he, some sort of truth-seer? The woman chuckled, raising her fists. "This will be quick, then," she said.

"Naga!" Korra yelled.

She didn't have her bending, but she at least had her oldest and most loyal friend. Naga, who had been waiting patiently outside, stuck her head inside the shop, tearing timbers from their frame. The thugs yelped as the polar bear-dog assessed the situation and turned her attention to them, growling. "Naga, grab," Korra said, infusing her voice with as much pretended calm as she could manage. Naga clamped her teeth around the leg of the firebender and bore down. "If you firebend, she'll take that limb off, in a panic if nothing else," Korra warned him. "Now leave this shop alone."

The firebender rattled off a string of curses that Korra actually found quite inventive. The burly woman appraised her thoughtfully. "Recruiting isn't worth this trouble," she said at last. "We'll be back later though, mark my words."

Korra tried very hard not to sigh in relief. "Back out, then," she said. "And then Naga will let your firebender go."

The woman backed away as instructed, hands raised in front of her. Naga shuffled backwards into the street and let go of the firebender's leg with a reluctant growl. Korra followed them out, her arms crossed over her chest. She noted that they had no audience; the windows on this street were suddenly all shuttered, and the vendors hawking goods from carts had evacuated the block.

"Clever trick, that dog," the woman said evenly. "Seems to me that relying on her's a bad idea, though. What's wrong, Avatar? Are you chi-blocked or something?"

"Just get out of here," Korra said.

"As you wish." The woman bared her teeth in a semblance of a smile. "My name's Mora, of the Agni Kai triad. I suggest you remember us, and keep out of our business. Next time, we might feel like making a fuss." Mora's eyes narrowed. "As for now…"

Korra blamed herself for not seeing the woman's hand dart out, snakelike in its speed and ferocity. She yelped as she felt hot metal sear the flesh of her forearm.

"Remember us," Mora hissed, and then they were gone.

Long minutes later, Lou crept out of the shop and found Korra sitting in the street. She cradled her right forearm gently, prodding the burned flesh with her left hand. The woman—Mora—had left a single character burned into Korra's skin. She recognized it; it was Agni Kai's sigil, borrowed from the word for the ritual combat practice itself. She must've been a firebender, too, Korra realized; she just didn't show it 'til she needed to. Naga licked her shoulder, whimpering softly.

"Avatar?" Lou's voice was uncertain. Korra looked up at him. He hovered over her, eyes unreadable. "I…thank you, for what you tried to do. It's no good, you know."

"You shouldn't be thanking me," Korra told him. "I botched it."

"Maybe," he allowed. "Still, I appreciate the intent. Can I see your arm?"

The skin was black. Lou whistled softly as he looked at it. "Is it true, what they said?" he asked. "You don't have your bending?"

"It's true."

"Then I can treat this with some ointments, until you can get a healer to see it." She appreciated his brisk, pragmatic manner. "Come along."

Inside, she stared gloomily at the mark as Lou treated it. "It's like a cattle brand," she said, unable to keep the pout from her voice. "I shouldn't have been so stupid."

"What they want, they take." Lou rolled up his sleeve to show her a matching mark on his own arm. "They put it there as a warning, both to you and to the other triads. You, so you know that next time they'll burn you hard. The other triads, to stay away from their prey."

"That's disgusting."

"That's life," he countered. He tied off a bandage and patted her on the shoulder. "We still appreciate the effort, Gali and I."

Korra had noticed that the girl was nowhere to be seen. "Why did they want her?" she asked.

Lou sighed. "She's only ten," he said, "but she's a bit too talented for her own good. Her parents are chi-blockers. They've gone underground, because these days it's dangerous, but she's got a knack for it, and she trains hard." His smile was sad, tinged with grief and grim resilience. "They thought they were preparing her to defend herself, and in some ways they were right, but it makes her a recruitment target for the triads."

"Oh." Korra shivered; if those were their "recruitment" tactics, she could understand why Gali was hiding. "Why do her parents need to hide, though? I don't understand."

He looked at her with surprise and—Korra swallowed—a faint edge of disappointment. "Didn't you know?" he asked her. "Chi-blocking was made illegal two years ago."

Korra had to admit that she hadn't known. Shaking his head, Lou ushered her out. "Don't worry about us," he told her. "I'll find Gali somewhere else to rest, until they give up on her."

"If you ever need a safe place, come to Air Temple Island," she said, the words rushing from her. "I mean—it's not much, and I know you won't want to leave your homes, but—it's the least I can offer."

Lou's eyebrows shot up, but to her relief he accepted the offer graciously. "Thank you, Avatar," he said.

She had no idea if he'd take her up on it, but she at least hoped that it would be a suitable apology for failing so spectacularly to protect them. Bowing low, she collected Naga's reins and mounted up. "On, girl," she whispered.

—

She made it back to the Island just as the rest of the family was wrapping up lunch. She bowed her way in and quietly requested a private conversation with Tenzin. When he saw the seal burned into her skin, he swore in a very un-Tenzin fashion. "Have you seen a healer?" he demanded.

"Not yet." The skin around the burn had blistered, but she'd been trying her best to ignore the painful throbbing. She'd managed to avoid most burns during her firebending training, and anyway, being her own healer had been blissful. Tenzin hurriedly summoned an Acolyte and told her to fetch a waterbending healer as quickly as possible. Turning back to Korra, he said, "But how are you doing?"

"I…" She tried to find words, reached, and faltered. "I…I've never been that scared before, Tenzin. I couldn't…there were people being threatened in front of me, and I couldn't do anything about it." She clenched her fists. "And nobody else was going to help. The neighbors, they close their shutters and look away. And the thugs said that the police don't care. And they're probably right, because if people did care this wouldn't be so cursed commonplace." She shook her head. "I thought that…that Republic City was this modern wonder, Tenzin, but it just makes me homesick. And, and…what good am I, if I can't even help people?"

Tenzin hugged her tight. "I don't have any easy answers," he told her. "Republic City…has its problems, Korra. But you know, a lot of them could use talking about. Public acknowledgement, public concern."

"Yeah." Korra mulled that over. "What does Beifong say about it?"

"You should ask her," Tenzin said firmly. "I wouldn't dare try to lecture about her own subject of expertise. I learned that lesson a long time ago. But I think…she tries, but the police force can't be everywhere."

"Then she should at least be going after the ringleaders!"

"Yes, because there's a shortage of hungry gang members." Tenzin shrugged. "Like I said, that's her area of expertise."

Korra scowled. There was a feeling, like the sensation of a loose tooth just before you could yank it out, and it was bothering her. Something about Tenzin's attitude. Something about her own education as The Avatar. The old White Lotus codgers hadn't bothered training her for messy urban realities like this.

Mako, she thought; Mako's good at dealing with real-life stuff. He has to be. I'll ask him.

—

That night, she dreamed of fire and earth and water, except this time, they all turned on her. Flame seared her, water poured into her lungs, the ground crumbled beneath her feet. Or: rocks pinning her still, fire licking up and down her clothing, water swirling in her ears and nose. She tried to bend them but they slipped away, bucking her control, and all she could do was scream.

Korra bolted awake. Her arm still throbbed, and her throat was raw from trying to shout. She stumbled into the bathroom and clenched her hands until her knuckles went white. Eventually she retched, and her stomach settled. She curled her knees into her chest and closed her eyes, willing her hands to stop trembling.

At least it wasn't another dream about Amon.