This chapter took a while longer than usual, but it's also much longer than the others I've written thus far! I hope you like it!

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Korra awoke the next morning with dark circles under her eyes. It was dawn, but the moon had lingered on the horizon through the course of the night—that was the way things were at the Poles.

Each Pole claimed the sun's time for half a year, alternating. This season, the North was blessed with the moon, while the South claimed the sun. While the moon was the master of their waterbending, the sun brought with it the gifts of the ocean. Turtle-seals followed the sun, needing to bask to keep their bodies warm, so the season of sun was high time for the tribes to hunt. The entirety of the sunny months were spent drying and preserving food in preparation for the moon season, when waterbending was its strongest. Major construction and expansion happened at this time, since the effort required for waterbending was far less.

Korra's life had always been this way. Unfortunately, over the past season, she had grown accustomed to the strange occurrence of both light and dark in a day, when the dark was considered time to sleep. She'd always been restless at night, though, and had spent most of her time sleeping days away, a mostly nocturnal creature of the city.

A "day" of solid night was strange and disconcerting. This was an entire season of the moon weaving through the sky, never setting. And, in turn, the cold darkness covered the ice palace like a blanket, dropping the already frigid temperatures.

Korra found herself despising her situation even more.

Not only that, but what little, restless sleep she'd gotten was plagued by nightmares of a scarred, ruined body reaching out with the intent to kill. In the dreams, she remembered screaming the words I trusted you, and the feeling of betrayal was more keen than the pain that had followed. When she'd woken, her eyes had been wet and sore, her body aching from the struggle that never happened.

That feeling of trust and subsequent betrayal was the most frightening opponent Korra had ever faced. She vowed to herself that she would not let the man's—Noatak's—presence get to her again.

She dressed with all the enthusiasm of a woman walking to the gallows, shedding her fur-lined sleep clothes and donning the thick layers of insulating underthings that Kya had provided her with. Korra hadn't thought to bring her own, used to the mild climate as she was, and had nearly frozen yesterday. After a brief but stern scolding from the Chief, she had been given more appropriate clothing to wear. Now, she barely felt the bite of the cold, content to wander the halls of the ice palace in the thick, long-sleeved shirt she had been given, the sleeves of her parka tied low on her hips in favor of carrying it.

Breakfast was an affair of some kind of stew, different than the South's stewed sea prunes, but bearing many of the same ingredients. She gulped it down, careless of the stinging heat her mouth suffered for her impatience, and hurried to catch up with Kya—Korra's entrance to the kitchen had gained a few comments, the most alarming coming from the cook, who said that Chief Kya had left nearly an hour ago.

Korra was sure that people were laughing at her as she sprinted across the city, struggling to pull her parka on as she went, hair in disarray, and mukluks shoved onto the wrong feet. She didn't really care, considering that the only reason she was here had left without her. Silently, she cursed Kya for not waking her up, and herself for being irresponsible. In her distraction, though, Korra slipped and fell headfirst into a snowdrift. She realized immediately that there was no way she would have fallen in such a way by herself. Someone must have icebended a slide under her feet.

Yanking herself free with a yell of fury, Korra turned to see a group of teenaged boys roaring with laughter, pointing and leering. The sight made her distinctly uncomfortable—she didn't like those looks, but she sure as hell wasn't going to let them get away with their pranks just because their smug superiority set her on edge.

"Hey, punks!" she snapped, scrambling to stand. "What the hell do you think you're doing? Can't you see I'm trying to go somewhere?"

The boys (she would think of them as such even though they were probably her age or even older) froze, obviously not used to being spoken to in such a way. One stepped forward, tall with broad shoulders, arms thick with muscle. His hair was closer to a coffee brown than the usual brown-black, his eyes a deep, dark blue, like the depths of the ocean. He was an attractive man, Korra supposed, but the cocky smirk he wore and the smug jut of his chin made any charm he might have held disappear. "You better watch your mouth, girly. Do you know who I am?"

Korra rose to the challenge with a crooked grin, her teeth bared in a way much more menacing than friendly. "Do you know who I am?"

"Yeah." replied the arrogant ostrich-horse's ass. "A wimp of a woman who doesn't even have enough sense to dress herself. You should have stayed in the kitchens, new girl. Now, apologize to us."

"Apologize for what?" Korra asked dangerously, her anger reaching a boiling point.

"Having your sorry self be a black spot in my vision." The guy's cronies cackled in mean-spirited humor. He practically puffed up at the attention, just like a preening rabbarooster. "Go on, then. I'm waiting. Or shall I make you apologize?"

Letting out an exhale of steam, Korra shrugged off the parka she had only just donned, letting it fall to the icy ground. Then, carelessly, she kicked off her mukluks—having them on the wrong feet would only hinder her anyway. The snow against her toes bit with cold, and Korra heated her body with another exhaled breath, fire coursing through her veins and making the circuit through her feet, the steam starting to rise as the ice melted away. Eyes gleaming with the promise of vengeance, Korra took a menacing step forward.

The group of men stumbled a step back, eyes wide with horror. "What are you doing? Girls can't waterbend! They're not allowed!"

"And who said anything," Korra replied slowly, savoring the moment. "About waterbending?"

She lunged forward with fire in her hands, landing blasts at their feet, meant to startle but not to harm. Korra knew that, no matter the circumstances, if she roasted what looked like a year's group of waterbending students, she would be in trouble. She made the quick decision to switch to airbending, knocking the punks off their feet with a well-aimed gust. She still got a thrill every time she was able to airbend. There was something amazing about being able to move the air around herself with only a few graceful forms.

"You're the Avatar!" One boy shouted. The leader whirled about in surprise, eyes narrowing. He spring to his feet, getting into an offensive stance, and Korra knew she was in for a fight.

Well, if he's going to waterbend, I sure as hell will, too, she thought, bending her knees and sinking lower. Unluckily for the leader, she wasn't just the Avatar—she was a master waterbender, trained by the very best.

Just as they were about to lunge for each other, a familiar voice pierced the air. "Both of you, stop bending immediately!"

Korra turned to see a furious Chief Kya, giving her the most disapproving of her many looks. And then Korra took in the person just beside her—a face she recognized, not by the features, but by the scars. "What are you doing here?" Korra asked in surprise, reeling back and nearly tripping over one of her discarded boots.

"What I am doing is ending this fight," Kya snapped. "Come before me, both of you." She glanced to the group of overturned lackeys. "You, too."

Korra sighed, not in regret but in disappointment that she couldn't finish what she started. Sulkily, she sunk to her knees at the feet of the Chief, head ducked and both hands held palm-up at chest level, the traditional gesture of surrender and submission. She nearly growled when she sensed her rival sink down beside her, but noticed from the corner of her eye that the young man did not bow his head. She hissed through her teeth; by not lowering his head, this—this whelp was undermining Kya's authority, not only as his superior, but challenging her very leadership of the tribe. It was extremely disrespectful, and in the past, the gesture could have declared war between families.

"You dare?" Kya asked, her voice deadly soft. "I have tolerated your impudence in the past, Kennaqkorr, but you try my patience. Show me the respect I deserve as Chief, or I will cast you from this tribe. I have warned you before, but I will not warn you again."

Though it obviously pained the young man to do so, he followed orders.

"Korra," Kya said next, and Korra inclined her head further to acknowledge the Chief. Though Korra was from the Southern Tribe, their tribes were sisters, and each knew to treat the leaders of their sisters and brothers with reverence. It didn't matter that Korra was the Avatar—she was not going to undermine the traditions of her people, not on this.

"I address you as my charge and not by your title."

Korra nodded slightly in understanding, but did not look up.

"I understand that you have come from a place of war and great unrest, where challenges such as the foolish ones made by Kennaqkorr—" here, Korra heard the muted fury in Kya's voice as she hissed his name, "—could be challenges against your life. But this is not Republic City. This is my home and my tribe, and though I understand that you were defending yourself, you are expected to follow our rules. If you wish to declare a Duel of Pride, there is a time and a place for such a thing to be carried out. Only under the circumstance that your safety is threatened may you fight back against your assailant in the presence of the tribe. Do you understand?"

Another silent nod.

"I expect that this is part of the reason you are late?" Kya paused. "Your parka and mukluks have been discarded."

"They were hindering my bending, Chief," she said quietly. "I'm sorry I was running behind. I didn't sleep well, and then I was trying to catch up when I was..." Turning her head only enough that Kya knew she was looking at Kennaqkorr, but not that the Chief could see her face. "...interrupted. Please, forgive me."

"I see," Kya replied, and Korra knew she did. It seemed that Kya knew well just the kind of person that Kennaqkorr was. "You are forgiven, Korra. In truth, the fault was mine; I should have informed you last night, but I had matters to attend to this morning involving... our mutual friend."

Korra twitched, but dared not protest Kya's ambiguous wording, no matter how falsely implied. She felt the burn of eyes on her, a gaze beside the one of the Chief, and knew that Noatak must be studying her.

Not for the first time, she wondered what, exactly, he was doing outside the healing center. When she had seen him yesterday, he hardly looked fit to be outside his room, let alone walking about the city.

Korra shifted in acute discomfort. This was not a way she had wanted to appear before Noatak—obedient, submissive, weak.

"You may rise, Korra," Chief Kya said sternly, but not unkindly. Korra finally met her eyes. The older woman's expression was severe, but her eyes clearly told Korra that all was forgiven. "Now, I must beg a favor. If you are..." Kya gave a wry glance to Korra's scattered belongings. "Well, If you could accompany this man back to the healing center, I would be most appreciative. Unfortunately, I have some unexpected business to attend to."

Kya looked upon the group of young men with a sharp eye. Now that Korra was standing, she felt superior to them; they were polar bear pups with their tails between their legs, and Korra was let off with a slap on the wrist. The only thing that interrupted her feeling of smug pleasure was the knowledge that Noatak had seen her in such a subservient posture.

Korra smothered her humiliation as she went to retrieve her things with as much dignity as she could muster. Making sure that her boots were on the right feet and that her jacket was on the right way, Korra tugged the end of her wolf's tail to be sure it was tight, and, finally, dragged her feet in the direction of her newest companion. She didn't even look up to meet his eyes as she passed him, shoving her hands deep into her pockets. "Well, come on, then."

He said nothing in reply, but Korra heard the crunch of footsteps as he followed behind.

The only sound for several minutes was the crunch of snow beneath their boots. Korra didn't want to break the silence, but she was growing increasingly uncomfortable as Noatak lingered behind. She hated not being able to keep him in her sight. Luckily, the man solved her dilemma when he called Korra to a halt.

The Avatar turned in alarm when she heard the man's wheezing breaths and was taken aback when she saw him hunched over, gloved hands clutching weakly at his sides. Noatak coughed, gasping from the cold before dissolving into more body-shaking coughs. Korra stood by, unsure of what to do, simply waiting until he stopped. Even still, Noatak was curled inward, and Korra could see the clear expression of pain on his face, even damaged as it was by scars.

"Are you..." Korra trailed off, reaching out and then thinking better of it, her hand suspended in the state in between helping and hesitating.

"I do not need your help," the man snapped.

"Yeah, sure seems that way," Korra replied with a scowl, crossing her arms over her chest. "Because you're doing so well on your own, and all."

Noatak gave her a baleful glare from behind his sleeve, where he muffled another round of coughs.

Korra grimaced and strode forward, shoving her own sleeves up toward her elbows. Though her heartbeat sped with nerves, Korra was all business as she knocked Noatak's arm aside, drawing ice from the ground and bending it into a glove of water around her hand.

"What exactly are you planning on—"

"Suck it up and let me work," the Avatar cut in with a frown.

Noatak's eyes narrowed slightly, but complied to the young woman's... unique healing manner. His eyes widened slightly as her hand began to glow, surprised enough that he almost didn't notice Korra working at the buttons on the side of his heavy coat. Almost.

"What—"

"Did I not just tell you to let me work?" Korra sniped, batting away his hands as he tried to fix his coat. "Let me check your lungs."

"Here?" Noatak asked, clearly annoyed. "Or have you forgotten where, exactly, we are?"

Korra paused only to look up, their gazes warring over so many and so little things, such as the manner of their individual madness. "No, I haven't." It was true, she hadn't. They were still on the outskirts of the city, but the healing center was still several thousand paces yet. "But we're not gonna get to the center anytime soon, and I should make sure now, before you stress your body out more, that you'll be fine to walk the rest of the way. Got it?"

He held her eyes for a few moments more before he surprisingly conceded. Korra tried not to feel too victorious over such a simple win, especially one that was more an acknowledgment of common sense than a mastery of wit. Still, she couldn't deny feeling the slightest bit smug as she continued her work, only undoing the top few buttons of Noatak's coat so she could expose as little of his damaged skin as possible. It was for her own sake and his—not only did the sight turn her stomach (even as both a healer and the Avatar, which was impressive, if gruesome, in and of itself), but keeping down on the flesh exposed would assist in preventing him more damage, if not also needless pain. Once Korra had access to his torso, she would be able to bend her water through the general area.

She was practical and sometimes even abrupt, but as much as her feelings were twisted around the fate of this one man and the possibilities of his identity, Korra was not cruel. She would do what she felt she should as a healer, and what she thought Kya might do were the chief in Korra's place. After all, it was Kya herself that had put Korra in this position, and after Korra's most recent misadventures, it was only fair, only right to stay in line as much as possible. Even if it meant swallowing her pride and her feelings on the matter.

The area she found access to was only about the size of a palm, but Korra would do what she could. Still, she hesitated before she simply bent the water into Noatak's system—he was already exposed to the cold, and using such cold water might only hurt his lungs. For any other waterbender, they would have no other option, for far be it from their ability set to warm glacial water with bending; but for Korra, she had the option to be kind and to not force his system into such stress.

With a sigh, Korra took a moment to concentrate and heat the water around her hands with a clever bit of firebending, a trick Mako had taught her once to increase the level of heat in a liquid without making it steam. It took some concentration, but Korra felt confident that the water would be warm enough, without being at risk to cause any sort of internal burns.

Internally, Korra admitted that Noatak had far more than enough of those, already.

"I'm going to start healing now," Korra informed him simply. "Don't move, if you can help it."

He made a huff of acquiesce, and the Avatar felt Noatak brace himself for whatever was coming. When he was still, Korra began her work, very slowly placing her hand to the area to warm his skin before she started healing. Noatak's soft hiss at the temperature difference gave her pause, until Korra figured it was more from surprise than any sort of pain.

With that, her eyes slid closed to dedicate her mind fully to her work and her element, patiently separating each drop of water to small enough sizes that it could be absorbed with minimal pain through his pores. It took more effort than she was used to, damaged as his skin was, but Korra was fairly certain that she had been successful. She wasn't usually one to work slowly when it came to healing, but she wasn't usually dealing with someone who wasn't in immediate danger—this man needed long-term healing, which was a technique of waiting and feeling the tides of the body, rather than a race against the clock as emergency bending was.

As Korra took her time in her technique, eyes closed, she didn't notice the considering look Noatak turned to give her. He hadn't missed the detail of the water's temperature; all of the healers thus far had worked with only cold water, including the Chief herself. Noatak had figured it was just the way things were done—even if he had once possessed the knowledge, now he knew nothing of healing. He simply had to trust in the abilities of his caretakers.

But this—this was different. The girl, Korra, who had caused him a fair amount of irritation over the past few hours, had already made strides in his care that the others had not in weeks. Even in adjusting the temperature of the water, Noatak felt his body accept Korra's ministrations more readily; not only that, but her patience was surprising. He felt only a strange pressure as the last of the water gloving her hand was absorbed, rather than stinging pain and discomfort.

Either Noatak's agonizing weeks of healing were finally being realized, or this girl—this... young woman—was some sort of miracle worker.

"Are you okay?"

Noatak was snapped out of his contemplative reverie by the sound of her voice, meeting her eyes with carefully concealed surprise. She must have caught him in his inspection of her, but she said nothing.

"Surprisingly," he admitted.

"Can I continue?"

No one had ever asked before. "You may."

It took a considerable amount of concentration for Noatak to stay aware of what she did next. Rather than cold forcing through his veins, he could barely feel as the gentle warmth moved from his side and into his left lung. The familiar aching sensation that he had nearly grown used to slowly began to dull—he couldn't imagine what she must be doing to fix that, since breathing altogether had brought that sensation, and not just the brief trek outside.

Incredible.

"There's some damage in your lungs, here." Her voice sounded contemplative. "I haven't seen it outside of pro-benders before; it's usually caused by the impact from the fall into the drain, coupled with inhaling water. It's a rookie mistake. It's strange, though..." Now, she was just rambling.

"Which means?" Noatak asked pointedly.

"Which means," Korra replied tetchily. "That either once or several times, you hit the water from a great height or with great force and inhaled—"

She cut herself off, her body growing tense beside him. Though Korra did not again open her eyes, he saw as her lips pursed and her face paled slightly.

"What?" he asked with a frown, his heartbeat speeding despite his best efforts. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Just... a thought."

"A thought," Noatak repeated, waiting for her to elaborate. She didn't. "...and?"

"And nothing. It was just a thought," Korra said, and would say nothing more.

The silence between them from them on was strained, and Noatak gave up at any chance of further conversation. Korra didn't ask or explain from then on, just continued her work; though Noatak noticed it was no less exceptional than before. By the time she had finished and was pulling her hands away, the burning, itching sensation in his lungs had faded, though he noticed that the water she had used to heal him had not been extracted. Korra seemed to notice his questioning look, and said simply, "Your body needs the hydration. I dispersed the water into your blood."

He wasn't sure exactly what had set her off before, but it obviously wasn't enough to stop her from being the annoying woman he had come to expect. When he went to refasten his own coat, she pushed his hands away without so much as a word and proceeded to do the task herself. For now, Noatak decided that it might just be best not to argue. Whatever the young woman was angry about, he had enough sense to know not to help her along.

But that wouldn't stop him from asking the question that had been burning at his mind.

"Where did you learn to heal?"

Korra, who had already started walking with the expectation that he would follow, stopped and turned. Her expression was carefully constructed apathy, but Noatak wasn't a fool. He saw the anxiousness that gave her pause before answering, as well as her reluctance to be near him. It wasn't something he had an explanation for, not yet. But he would.

He would find out exactly what she was hiding.

"I learned from a woman in the Southern Tribe. She's the best in the world."

"Master Katara? Chief Kya's mother?" He asked.

Korra's wide blue eyes told him what she would not—she hadn't expected him to know. "Yes. She was my waterbending sifu."

His eyes narrowed in consideration, but slowly began to walk again, trailing along just behind Korra. There was still some time before they reached the healing center, and he wanted his wording to be precise. "I have heard that Master Katara doesn't take on just any pupil," he started carefully. "You must be a very talented bender if she decided to teach you."

Korra didn't answer for some time; she must have been taking just as much care with her words as he was. It was curious, really—she didn't seem the type to think before she spoke. There had to be more to this situation than he could have anticipated. "Katara was friends with my mom. She delivered me personally. My parents said that she was there when I bent for the first time. She started training me even before—"

Korra cut herself off. Noatak could only wonder what she would have gone on to say.

"I'm a good waterbender because Katara trained me," Korra revised. "She didn't train me because I was good."

He somehow knew that the words were just half-truths. Noatak wasn't sure what the other halves could be. Frustrated, he reached out one hand to grab Korra's wrist, wincing at the pain when he spun her around to face him. "With all due respect, Chief Kya is a good waterbender. Great, even. But what you just did was beyond anything that even the best healers in this tribe could offer; it was extraordinary. There's something you're not telling me, Korra."

The girl shivered. He simply assumed it to be because of the cold; he would never know how wrong he was.

She pulled her hand from his grip, turning away to take note of something in the distance. "There's the healing center. Let's go."

She kept a larger distance from his this time. He desperately wanted to ask what she was so afraid of, but he wasn't sure that he would like the answer. In minutes, they were back at the center, where Korra gestured for him to enter first. He did so, but paused in the doorway when she didn't follow. "You aren't coming in?"

"I have to go to the stables," she said. "I brought you here; that's all Kya asked me to do."

"What's in the stables?" Noatak asked.

Korra remained stubbornly silent, her arms crossed over her chest.

Noatak sighed in frustration, scowling at the young woman, but resigned in knowing that he had gotten what he could from her today. For now, he would let her think she had won. He turned and entered the ice-structured building without another word.

There were other ways to get what he wanted.

When Korra returned later from her ride with Naga, Chief Kya was waiting for her in the palace. "Noatak has asked that I make you his regular healer; he said that your skills were most impressive, and that perhaps the extra time would help you to identify him. You will report to the healing center tomorrow morning at nine o'clock sharp. Do not be late."

Korra fumed for the rest of the night at the unfairness of it all.

Once again, he had bested her.