Summer, ASC 171

Tarrlok opens his eyes and discovers a large wet nose right in front of his face. He recoils from it.

The nose belongs to a polar bear dog, though the animal just gives him a dismissive look before wandering away.

Tarrlok sits upright, unsure whether he should remain perfectly still or start running. All he can hear is birdsong. The air is cold, and smells of damp earth. He's in... well, some kind of wood with sparse, twiggy trees. The quality of the light suggests that it's some time after dawn.

Last he knew, he was in a White Lotus compound, and it was raining, and the food was bad, and he'd just woke up when Korra...

Korra.

Korra is sitting under a tree, drinking from a water skin. The polar bear dog ambles over to her, pokes her with its nose, then sits down by her side and curls up, looking like a snowdrift.

When Korra realizes that Tarrlok is awake, she has the decency to look worried.

Tarrlok finds the will to speak.

"YOU ACTUALLY KIDNAPPED ME," he yells at Korra.

Korra obviously takes a moment to muster some false bravado, and shrugs. "Yeah. Now we're even."

Tarrlok gets to his feet, staggers a bit, finds his balance, and tries to look imposing while wearing a nightshirt and a pair of pants that are too short in the leg. "You! You're in so much trouble, you... horrible little shrew."

"Hey, calm down," Korra says, although she's got to realize how unreasonable this sounds. What the hell is she thinking? And did she actually carry him away from the White Lotus compound? By herself? Tarrlok weighs more than she does. The girl is a monster. Just what have the White Lotus been feeding her?

(Tarrlok is getting tired of being knocked out and carried places. It makes him feel like he's a hapless damsel in a badly-written serial.)

"I'm the Avatar," Korra adds, "I've got to do what I think is best for the greater good. Anyway, if I'd left you with the White Lotus, they would've just sent you to court and thrown you in jail for twenty years or whatever."

"Exactly! And I was fine with that!" Tarrlok says. He has a headache, but he's not about to let that hold him back from throwing a good shitfit. "I was hoping that if I kept my nose clean and played my cards right, they'd put me in a low security prison and I could spend my time reading books and helping with the communal garden, but now they'll probably just put me into some secret White Lotus hell-hole that's full of dangerous criminals and doesn't have any toilet paper!"

Korra frantically gestures for him to lower his voice. "That won't happen, okay?"

"How do you know that?!"

"I'll explain stuff to people. After everything's settled down."

"Oh really. I'm sure that'll work out excellently," Tarrlok says. Then he wants to wince because he sounds ridiculous, which just makes him angrier. Maybe he can blame his temperament on the fact that that he has a mild concussion. His right eye socket feels tender, but not too swollen. Did she give him a black eye, then heal it while he was unconscious? What a little shit.

Korra scowls and gets to her feet. "Look, I know what I'm doing, alright?"

Tarrlok has to stop himself from kicking her. Or attempting to kick her, at least. "No. You have absolutely no idea what you're doing, you stupid girl. And I'm leaving. Good day."

"You're not wearing any shoes," Korra points out.

"I DON'T CARE," Tarrlok replies, and turns to walk off.

He takes two steps, and then he's unable to lift his right foot off the floor. There's a block of ice around his ankle, pinning him to the ground.

He tries to melt the ice, then remembers that he can't.

He's going to kill her.

"LET ME GO," he shouts, looking back at the girl.

Korra looks at him like he has rabies. "Not until you calm down."

And then Tarrlok's brain does that terrible thing where he's fully aware of how he's behaving, but he still can't stop himself. "I WILL NOT CALM DOWN. ARE YOU MENTALLY DEFICIENT? DO YOU THINK YOU CAN INTIMIDATE ME INTO DOING WHAT YOU WANT? HOW DARE YOU. YOU'RE GOING TO TAKE ME BACK TO THE WHITE LOTUS RIGHT NOW OR I'M GOING TO..." What? Cry? "MAKE SURE THERE ARE CONSEQUENCES. YOU ARE THE WORST AVATAR IN THE HISTORY OF HUMANITY."

Korra just stands there, wide-eyed. (Her polar bear dog only lifts its head for a moment, gives Tarrlok a cursory glance, then closes its eyes again.)

"LET ME GO," Tarrlok repeats.

"Uh," Korra says, "No."

Tarrlok suddenly feels very tired, so he sits back down on the ground, a little clumsy because of his frozen foot. Then he rubs at his temples, and quietly tells Korra, "You're an asshole."

Korra blinks at him like she can't believe he just said 'asshole'.

"Are you done?" she asks.

Tarrlok shrugs.

Korra unfreezes his foot, then watches to see what he'll do next.

Tarrlok just sits there. He listens to the mindless chirping of the birds in the trees.

"So, um..." Korra says, utterly out of her depth. She pauses, probably trying to think of an appropriate response to this whole... situation. "You okay?"

"No."

"Is there anything I can do?"

"Can I go back to the White Lotus now?" Tarrlok asks, simply. "I think I'd like to go back to sleep."

"You're sure you want to go back?"

"What, isn't that obvious enough yet?" Tarrlok actually looks around for something to throw at her, but there's nothing in reach.

"I just thought..." Korra looks at her feet. "Look, I thought that if you helped me find Noatak, maybe people would go easier on you. I thought I was giving you a chance."

"You thought you were doing me a favor?"

"I, uh. Yeah."

"You punched me in the face."

"Yeah, but only 'cause I, uh... Kind of panicked."

"Yes, panic seems to be an occupational hazard when kidnapping people," Tarrlok says. He pauses so he can concentrate on his breathing. He's heard that concentrating on your breathing is meant to be helpful. Then he says, "Why would you want to do me any favors?"

"I don't know," Korra sighs, and takes a few careful steps closer to him. "I'm meant to fix things. And maybe I wanted you to prove that you're not a total shithead, because if you were a total shithead, that'd just be... depressing."

Shithead? "Do you swear at Tenzin like this?" Tarrlok asks.

Korra frowns and purses her lips. She inches a little closer to him. "No. Tenzin's the sort of guy who tells you off if you just say the word 'fart'."

"I'm going to take a wild guess and assume that you picked up your vocabulary from that firebender of yours," Tarrlok mutters, without looking up at her.

Korra sticks out her chin. "Nope. Mako never swears. What's your problem with firebenders?"

"I don't have a problem with firebenders."

"You just called Mako 'that firebender'."

"Well, he is a firebender, isn't he?"

"It's your tone of voice, bub."

Tarrlok almost says, 'I don't have a problem with firebenders, I've worked with firebenders my entire life', then wonders how they ended up down this tangent. He now fixes her with a stare that's meant to be authoritative. "Does Mako know you're here right now? Does he know that you intend to go after Noatak alone, with just a known bloodbender for company?"

Korra doesn't answer that question fast enough.

"Did you actually run off without telling anyone where you were going?" Tarrlok asks. "Because, if so, that's incredibly selfish."

"I'll send Mako and the others a letter. We can meet up later."

"Right, and how quickly will your people send out a search party after you?"

"I'm pretty good at avoiding search parties. Had my entire life to practice at it."

"And if you manage to find Noatak, do you think everyone's going to say, 'congratulations, Korra! We'll completely overlook all the idiotic things you've done! Going after a scared, desperate criminal by yourself - while dragging along the man who once kidnapped you, no less - wasn't a terrible idea at all!'?"

Korra glowers. "Look, I just... need to find Amon myself, alright?"

"THAT'S-" Tarrlok takes a moment to adjust his voice so he's not screaming at her, "...That's just stupid." Then an idea occurs to him. "...Wait. Please tell me that you didn't just decide to break me out and go after Noatak on a whim just because there was a storm last night, and you were hoping that the rain would cover your tracks, so you saw an opportunity and went for it?"

"...N-no," Korra says.

Tarrlok needs to find a wall so he can bang his head against it.

"Did Katara actually forbid you from pursuing Noatak?" he asks, slowly. "Is that why you were so grumpy yesterday? Because she wouldn't let you join her little Noatak-hunting trip?"

Korra's expression suggests that she's very close to punching him. He should probably brace for impact, but he swears that if she gets close enough to hit him, he's going to bite her arm. "I'm the Avatar. Amon picked a fight with me," Korra says. "Bringing him to justice is my responsibility."

"YOU HAVE ABSOLUTELY NO IDEA WHAT YOU ARE DOING," Tarrlok replies, then lets out a deep sigh. Here he is. Sitting in a forest in his night clothes. Screaming at a teenage girl. He wants some alcohol. He wants a bath. He wants a bath full of alcohol. "...You know what, fine. I give in. I won't try to talk you out of anything, because you're beyond hope. If you insist on going after Noatak, I'll go with you, because you're clearly a menace to yourself."

"You're a menace to yourself," Korra grumbles.

Tarrlok opens his mouth to reply, then pauses. "...Yes, true. I doubt we'll make it as far as the border without trying to kill each other again. So, you said you intended to follow Katara; do you even know where she is?"

Korra inches closer to him again, until she's two paces away. She's still scowling, though she speaks in the quiet, measured tone of someone who's making an effort to be patient after being insulted. "She's heading to a town called Shunjing in the Southern Earth Kingdom. I know how to get there."

Tarrlok makes an educated guess: "Shunjing is in the Fei Cui Province, isn't it?" Tarrlok lets out a deep breath. "Please don't tell me you intend to travel by polar bear dog the entire way."

"What, you expect me to walk?"

"At least walking would be less conspicuous."

"Naga took me from the South Pole to Republic City without any trouble."

"Yes, but then no one had any idea who you were."

"We can avoid people. Naga can go over rivers and mountains, and she can out-run just about anything."

The bear dog, hearing its name mentioned, now raises its head.

"Yeah, Naga's pretty fast. She's better than a Satocycle," Korra adds, and wanders over to the animal so she can pat it on the shoulder.

Tarrlok stares at Korra. Then he stares at Naga. Naga stares back. Naga yawns, displaying canines the size of a man's index finger.

"Seriously?" Tarrlok says. "No."

Travelling by polar bear dog is somehow worse than Tarrlok expected.

The creature only stops briefly to drink from a stream, sniff the ground, or urinate on things. It's constantly moving. Riding it is like sitting on a couch that has cushions filled with skunkweasels. Tarrlok is always a second away from falling off. He grips the saddle with his good hand, and tries to ignore the fact that he has a very healthy, robust girl jostling in front of him. (It's probably a good thing that he lost his libido around the same time as when he lost his career, his bending, his self-respect, and... Well, a lot of things. He suspects that he's lost just about everything except for his capacity for self-pity.)

Then there's the polar bear dog's hair, and the smell. Tarrlok tells himself that he'll get used it eventually, but every so often, he gets a whiff of the molted fur on his hands and it's akin to being hit in the face by an old carpet that's had fish guts spilled on it.

The polar bear dog takes them through more woodland, although Tarrlok doesn't pay much attention to the scenery. Instead, he contemplates questions such as: why does Korra even have a polar bear dog? What is wrong with her parents? What sort of people let their daughter ride around on an animal that has a reputation for eating people? Has it ever tried to eat her? Has it ever tried to eat anyone else? How was she allowed to bring the thing into Republic City? If she wasn't the Avatar, no one would tolerate such nonsense. If she wasn't the Avatar, no one would've given her the time of day. The girl really doesn't do much to dispel the idea that Southerners are a bunch of inbred hicks. Tarrlok wouldn't be surprised if the White Lotus embassy in the South Pole was just a longhouse with a few sled dogs on guard. No wonder Korra managed to escape. Maybe the White Lotus actually let her leave, just so they didn't have to deal with the polar bear dog smell.

To add injury to insult, it isn't long before he starts to ache. Riding a polar bear dog isn't like riding a Satocycle. Riding a polar bear dog actually requires effort.

Maybe Korra eventually notices his discomfort, because there comes a point where she tells Naga to slow down, then says, "I think we're a safe distance away from the White Lotus by now. Do you want a break?"

Tarrlok fights his natural inclination to tell her that he's fine, and replies, "That might be a good idea."

The bear dog stops without being ordered, and Korra dismounts. Tarrlok swings one leg over the creature's saddle, then just sort of slides off.

Korra offers, "If you're feeling kind of sore, it gets easier. You just have to push yourself up in the saddle whenever her paws hit the ground..."

"I thought that's what I was doing," Tarrlok mutters. Though it's a little difficult to push yourself up in the saddle when you don't have stirrups. Perhaps he should mention that to the smarmy little shit.

"Like I say, it gets easier. It takes practice." Korra goes over to one of the panniers on the saddle and digs through it. She takes out a pair of shoes that look like Tarrlok's. Because they are Tarrlok's shoes. She had the good sense to grab his shoes when abducting him. Tarrlok is slightly impressed.

Korra hands the shoes over. Tarrlok takes them, moves away from the polar bear dog until he feels like he's at a safe distance, then sits on the grass so he can put his shoes on.

"Huh. You have really long toes," Korra comments.

Tarrlok chooses to ignore that. "Do you have any socks?"

Korra takes some socks out of the pannier and throws them over. "You want anything else? I've got you another change of clothes."

Tarrlok unthinkingly catches the socks with his bad hand, almost dropping them. Then he considers what Korra has just said. "...Why do you have clothes for me? You don't even know my sizing."

"You're about the same build as Tenzin." Korra looks him up and down. "Though, actually, I think Tenzin's more, uh..."

"What?" Tarrlok lets the implications sink in. "...What? You stole Tenzin's clothing?"

"Just some spare stuff I found at Katara's house. The family takes holidays there sometimes." Korra holds up her hands. "Don't worry, the clothes aren't saffron-colored. And I bet Tenzin won't miss them. They look kind of old. But they're clean."

"I am not wearing Tenzin's old clothes."

"You can't wear the same shirt and pants forever."

"I am not wearing Tenzin's old clothes."

"Why?"

Tarrlok tries to think of an intelligent, mature answer to that.

"You can walk around naked for all I care, but if you're going to wear that shirt and those pants every day then I'm going to throw some water at you every so often," Korra says.

Tarrlok stares at her, then clears his throat. "Well, I'm going to smell like a polar bear dog no matter what I wear, but fine. Thank you for giving me a spare change of clothes."

"Naga doesn't smell," Korra says, though Naga has wandered off to eat some grass and is apparently oblivious to them both.

"Of course she smells. All dogs smell. As do bears, I imagine. And Naga smells worse than a bear and a dog put together."

"Yeah, well, look who's talking," Korra replies. "Tenzin used to say that the smell of your aftershave would turn up at council meetings five minutes before you did. He said it was like a warning for everyone to leave the room."

"Yes, but-" Tarrlok begins, before pausing. "Wait. Tenzin said that?"

"Yep!"

Tarrlok is outraged for a second, and then he says, "Hm. I never knew that Tenzin actually had a personality."

"What's Tenzin ever done to you?" Korra asks, hands on hips.

"Apart from make insulting comments about my aftershave? Well, he-" Tarrlok, quickly compiles a mental list of offenses, but the truth is just that he's never liked Tenzin. "He's a self-important contrarian and it's a travesty that he managed to get a seat on the council when he represents a nation which consists entirely of close relatives, most of whom are under the age of twelve. He's had everything handed to him on a plate for his entire life, and he's still ended up being a useless fartbag who's good for nothing except making more airbenders."

Korra fixes Tarrlok with a stare that's downright unsettling - if Tarrlok wanted to be dramatic, he'd say that it's a stare that has the weight of 10,000 years behind it - and says, "You're envious of him."

Oh great did Tarrlok really just make it that obvious.

"Also, wow, you actually called Tenzin a fartbag," Korra adds.

"Whatever my personal feelings may be, they don't invalidate the fact that he never should've been on the council," Tarrlok replies. He lets out a little huff, and goes about putting his socks on. "Can we please change the subject?"

Korra gives him another one of those speculative looks that he's quickly learning to hate. "What do you want to talk about instead?"

"I don't know. You could tell me why you couldn't go with Katara to find Noatak."

Korra makes an 'ugghhhhhh' noise at that. "So what, so you can tell me that I'm stupid for trying to find Noatak on my own?"

"No. If I question your decisions, you'll just get defensive," Tarrlok replies. He remains sitting on the ground, and crosses his legs in order to get more comfortable. "I'll try to withhold judgment."

"You can do that?" Korra grumbles.

Tarrlok almost grimaces. "Like I said, I'll try."

Korra puffs out her cheeks and looks up at the sky, frowning. She crosses her arms. "Katara doesn't think I'm able to handle a bloodbender."

"Why not?"

"She's just..." Korra mutters. "I don't know, I think people are underestimating me just because I screwed up and lost my bending that time."

"I see. If she argued that you're not competent enough to fight Noatak, then what did she say, exactly?"

Korra sullenly sits down opposite from him. She holds up her left hand and counts on her fingers. "Okay. She said that Noatak's probably spent a lot of time planning to fight me me, and that therefore it'd be better if she confronted him instead, because then he wouldn't know what he was dealing with. She also said that if I fought Noatak, there's a risk I might go into the Avatar state, and that might be what he actually wants because then if he killed me he could end the Avatar cycle forever. Which is stupid, because I know I wouldn't have to go into the Avatar state just to deal with Noatak - I think I know how to fight a bloodbender now, because bloodbenders are only really dangerous if they catch you by surprise, and-"

Tarrlok holds up a hand to tell her to pause. "If she's gone off to find Noatak, then wouldn't she want you along in case you'd be required to take Noatak's bending?"

Korra screws up her face, takes a good five seconds to choose her reply, then says, "No."

"Why?"

"She said I'd never done anything like that before, and that it could be dangerous."

Tarrlok leans back slightly. "Wait. Could you take someone's bending, if need be?"

"Probably. Maybe I could if I was, uh, in danger." Korra plucks a blade of grass and rolls it between her fingers, and admits, "No one's ever told me how it works. I'm guessing it's like restoring someone's bending, but... In reverse? I've sort got an idea what it'd be like, but I couldn't explain it."

"Oh." Well that's... not what he was expecting. "I just assumed you'd be able to do it."

"I'm not Aang," Korra grumbles, and Tarrlok gets the impression that people frequently remind her of this.

"Well, that's not a bad thing," Tarrlok says, before a different thought occurs to him. "You know, if you fight Noatak and you can't take his bending, there's a chance you'll have to kill him. You've considered this, right?"

"Yeah, I guess, I uh..." Korra gives him an uneasy look. "Do you want me to kill him?"

Tarrlok feels a bit like he's just been kicked in the ribs. "I want you to do whatever's required to keep people safe."

"If I don't kill him, he'll probably spend the rest of his life in solitary confinement, so-"

"Yes, that has crossed my mind," Tarrlok says, standing up. He brushes dry grass and polar bear dog hair off his clothing. "But we haven't even found him yet. Let's get moving."

Korra seems happy to drop the subject, and whistles for Naga.

When it gets dark, they stop by a river. Korra dismounts, then takes a bedroll from the pannier on Naga's saddle. She throws the bedroll over to Tarrlok.

"You can get some sleep, and I'll keep watch," she says.

Tarrlok eyes the bedroll and feels like he's being patronized.

"When I start to fall asleep, I'll wake you up and we can swap places," Korra adds.

"I could take first watch," Tarrlok replies. It's an odd situation. He's a thirty-seven year-old male (though he's thirty-five if anyone asks), and she's a teenage girl. Perhaps it's best if he avoids thinking about it, otherwise they'll just make him angry. Though he's not entirely sure who he should be angry at. Himself, probably.

Korra shakes her head. "You look more tired than me."

Tarrlok still wants to argue for the sake of his pride, but he reminds himself that his pride isn't worth very much. He finds a patch of ground that's relatively flat, and lays out the bedroll. Then he looks back at Korra, tries to think of something to say, decides that he's too exhausted, and settles down for the night.

"Tarrlok?"

It feels like he's barely been asleep for a few minutes. Tarrlok blinks, and makes himself sit upright.

Korra is sitting cross-legged next to him, her face illuminated by a flame in her hand. "It's time to, uh, swap," she says, and yawns.

Fine. Tarrlok drags himself out of the bedroll.

Korra stands, wanders over to where her polar bear dog is curled up, and flops down on top of the animal. She rests her head on the nape of its neck. The polar bear dog doesn't even stir.

"Are you going to sleep like that?" Tarrlok mutters.

"Whuh?"

"I said, are you going to sleep like that?"

Korra doesn't lift her head. "Yeah."

"Don't you want a blanket?"

"No."

"I can get you a blanket."

"Didn't pack one. Night, Tarrlok,"

Tarrlok pauses, and thinks. "You did bring a bedroll for yourself, didn't you?"

Korra lets out a long-suffering sigh. "No point. Naga's warm."

Tarrlok throws up his hands. "You can't just go gallivanting across the countryside with a man and only take one bedroll."

Korra now looks up. Her face is a picture of abject frustration. "Tarrlok. I don't care. Nobody cares. Shut up."

"It's improper," Tarrlok says, as accusingly as he can muster.

"Why?!"

"People will assume things."

"Oh for-... Like what?!"

"Things," Tarrlok says, with just the right inflection.

Korra is silent while she figures out what he means, then makes a noise that's a cross between a laugh and a snort. "Okay. No. Night, Tarrlok." She flops against the polar bear dog again.

Tarrlok just goes to sit by a tree so he can nurse his wounded ego for the rest of the night.

Tarrlok wakes to the the sound of Korra swearing. He had no idea that he dozed off. He sits bolt upright. Is she swearing at him? Has she noticed that he's been asleep when he was meant to be keeping watch?

Apparently not. Korra is still curled up against Naga, though now she's sitting up and rubbing her eyes. Naga has lifted its head and is watching Korra intently. The sky is orange-grey. It's probably still some time before dawn.

"Everything alright?" Tarrlok asks, standing up so he can move nearer to Korra.

"Yeah, fine," Korra mumbles. Naga starts licking her face, and she lets out a sad little laugh. "Knock it off. Your breath stinks."

Her voice doesn't sound quite right, so Tarrlok asks, "What's wrong?"

Korra looks him up and down as if she's trying to figure out the ulterior motive behind his show of concern, then says, "I said I'm fine."

Tarrlok should shrug and let the matter drop without saying anything further - but, without thinking, he ends up saying, "Sorry." The word just slips out. It makes his teeth itch.

Tarrlok goes to sit back by his tree.

Korra gently pushes Naga's huge head away (though Naga still succeeds licking Korra's hands), and keeps watching him. Then she says, "It's nothing important. Just a bad dream. Stupid, right?"

"Not necessarily," Tarrlok says. The Avatar is meant to be prophetic. If she's having nightmares, then he hopes it's just because she's been sleeping irregular hours and eating the wrong sort of food. Nothing sinister. "I suppose that when you were with the White Lotus, you had a team of sages to interpret your dreams for you."

Korra forces a smile. "Yeah. It was great. I'd be like, 'last night I dreamt that Naga was a giant mantou on legs and I had to stop her from eating herself,' or 'last night I dreamt that I was in an opera about my life but I couldn't sing and the audience booed me off stage and they had to get someone else to play me', and the sages would go away and consult their scrolls and then come back and be like..." She clears her throat, and affects a deep voice, "'Avatar Korra, after great consideration, we've concluded that you need to stop eating jerky before bedtime'."

Tarrlok smiles back, despite himself.

"Anyway," Korra says, taking a deep breath, "We might as well get going again. I don't think I'll be getting back to sleep."

Right, that sounds fair enough. Tarrlok doesn't want to sit around for any longer. He goes to collect his bedroll, while Naga stands up and pokes Korra in the ribs with its nose.

"Do you ever dream about Aang?" Tarrlok asks, as an aside.

Korra hesitates for a second. "Not really, no. Why?" She looks suspicious again. "Do you actually want to know what I dream about?"

Tarrlok shakes his head. "It's alright. I don't mean to be nosy."

Korra hops up onto Naga's saddle. "Okay, listen. I just... I had this dream where I was in Republic City but the streets looked different, and there was this thing that sounded like... I don't know... Anyway, this thing was chasing me, and... I'm not gonna bore you with all of it, but I had to ask people for help, and they looked at me like I was, uh... something gross, and then they started pointing and yelling so the thing would kill me."

Korra looks down, and runs her fingers through the fur of Naga's neck.

"I wasn't scared, though," Korra adds. "It just bugged me because it was strange. But dreams are usually weird, right? Like, the other night I dreamed was in a library and I ate a book, and the book screamed at me so loud the entire time that the librarian kicked me out."

"That sounds about normal," Tarrlok says, though he's not quite sure what would be considered a 'normal' dream, given that he usually zones out whenever people start talking about such things. The kind of people who talk about their dreams are generally only slightly less awful than the kind of people who talk about their bowel movements. But he knows that dreams are always either nonsensical, horrifying, or a combination thereof.

"Yeah, maybe," Korra says, a bit quieter now. She holds out a hand so she can help Tarrlok up into the saddle. He only hesitates briefly before accepting the help.

The countryside looks the same after a while. Fields, grassland, trees, more fields, more grassland, more trees. Tarrlok should enjoy his freedom, but the boredom saps some of the joy out of it.

They look for ways to pass the time. Korra challenges him to a throat-singing competition. When he states that men don't engage in throat-singing competitions (and that he's been emasculated enough already, thank you), Korra calls him a wuss who's afraid of losing. Tarrlok points out that if they're trying to keep a low profile, then perhaps a throat singing competition is a bad idea. Korra still calls him a wuss. Tarrlok then refrains from talking to her for an entire hour afterwards.

The two of them also enjoy a heated argument over the fact that Korra's hair keeps hitting Tarrlok in the face.

When they run out of small talk, they lapse into an uneasy silence that's only broken by the sound of Naga's breathing and the steady thud of paws hitting the ground. Tarrlok zones out a little, lulled by the rhythm of Naga's feet. Tarrlok finds himself becoming comfortable with riding a polar bear dog. Tarrlok becomes a little too comfortable. Tarrlok falls asleep. Tarrlok falls off the saddle.

He finds himself on the floor.

"Oh crap, are you okay?" Korra asks, standing over him. She looks genuinely worried. Maybe she feels some residual guilt about knocking him out earlier.

Tarrlok lies flat on his back and looks up at the girl. "Please stop swearing. It's extremely tacky."

"Yeah, you're fine," Korra says, and climbs back up onto Naga without offering Tarrlok a hand up.

Tarrlok picks himself up off the ground and dusts himself off. He gets back on Korra's horrible animal.

"Uh, maybe you should put your arms around my waist now," Korra says, as if it was his fault he fell off.

"Do you think I might fall off again? I'm don't intend to fall off twice, Korra."

"Just hold on to me or something," Korra grumbles.

Well, as she's the one who suggested it, fine. Tarrlok puts his arms around Korra's waist. She feels solid and warm in ways that he doesn't really want to think about.

The two of them just sit there for a moment, while Naga sniffs a patch of grass.

Korra is the first one to speak: "Okay. Maybe you..."

Tarrlok can imagine what's going through her head: I feel like I'm getting hugged by a weird uncle. (Which is funny, because Korra does have a weird uncle, and Tarrlok was once mistaken for him at a public function. Maybe he should've played along with it, and then people might've let him rule the Northern Water Tribe for a while.)

"No, I don't think this will work," he says, very carefully, and lets go.

"Okay. If you say so." It's difficult to tell if Korra is relieved, or just slightly confused.

Tarrlok goes back to hanging onto the saddle. He decides to pass the time by attempting to identify every tree in sight.

They avoid towns and villages, keeping to the countryside. This prevents Tarrlok from attempting to contact the White Lotus - and, in a way, he's grateful for this, though he knows he won't be able to explain himself when he has to speak with Katara again.

Korra catches catches food for the two of them. This doesn't do much to improve Tarrlok's mood.

He's reasonably sure that he could still hunt without his bending. However, bending would make it much easier. If he was on his own, he'd have to hunt - but with Korra present, there's just no point. It's just more efficient to have her do the work. (Besides, there's also the fact that he hasn't needed to catch his own meals for twenty years, and really, hasn't he always hated hunting anyway?)

When their journey takes them close to the sea shore, Korra catches a crab, brings it to Tarrlok, points at the crab, stares Tarrlok dead in the eye, and says, "Look. It's you."

"Excuse me," Tarrlok says, sitting by the small fire that Korra's managed to create out of some driftwood, "How old are you meant to be, again?"

"Seventeen. How old are you?"

"Well, you..." Tarrlok begins, then catches her question. He choose to not answer. "...Don't act like it."

"I was going to give you this crab, you know," Korra mutters.

"Oh."

Korra hands him the crab. It wiggles its legs.

Tarrlok is now faced with two choices: kill the crab and risk making a horrible mess of it, or admit that he has no idea how to kill the thing. He sighs, and offers the crab back to her. "Thanks. Can you do the honors?"

Korra shrugs. "Sure."

"Most of the villages where I lived while growing up were rather far from the sea."

"Okay."

"And my father never really bothered to teach us fishing."

Korra picks up a stone, shapes it into a spike, and uses it to stab through the shell. "Uh huh."

"And I don't know how to prepare crab anyway," he adds, before telling himself to shut up.

"Mhm," Korra says, fashioning the stone into a knife so she can dress the crab. She gives him one of the claws.

Tarrlok peels away the outer layers to get to the meat. He goes to eat it, then pauses. It smells like salt water.

Tarrlok doesn't want to taste salt water ever again.

"You know, I don't want to sound ungrateful, but I don't think I'm hungry," he says.

Korra arches her brows and gives him a look that's annoyingly parental. "You haven't eaten since this morning."

"Like I say, I'm not hungry."

Korra stops what she's doing, and eyes him, speculative once more. She then seems to dismiss whatever's on her mind, and starts to eat the crab by herself.

Tarrlok just sits there and feels like a prize idiot.

Korra wipes some sand off her hands and onto her clothes, and asks him, absently, "You thinking about your brother?"

"Not really."

Korra looks at him like she doesn't believe that. "You've been crankier than usual ever since we got close to the sea," she says. "You want to talk about anything?"

"Like what?"

Korra seems thoughtful, and asks through a mouthful of crab meat, "What was Noatak like, when you knew him?"

"I don't know," Tarrlok says. "Smart. Quiet." And generally kind, so you knew that whenever he lost his temper with you, you knew that you'd really done something wrong.

"And?" Korra prompts.

"Patient."

"If I have to fight this guy, I want to understand him better," Korra says. "Is that all you remember?"

Tarrlok surrenders. "Alright, fine, he used to make up ghost stories, he had an incredibly stupid sense of humor, he was surprisingly good at singing, and he was a terrible pai sho opponent because he'd get bored and just let me win. Or he'd cheat. But he'd never cheat the same way twice. I think that finding new ways to cheat was the only reason why he played the game. Also he never used to change his socks often enough, which was disgusting. Is that enough? Because I don't know how any of this is meant to help."

"Wait. Amon can sing?"

"Probably."

"Can you sing?"

"No."

Korra manages to keep a straight face. "If you sing something, I'll sing something."

"I'm not singing."

"Fine." Korra sits in silence for a few seconds, probably trying to wrap her head around a few interesting mental images, and then she says, "What do you think happened to him? Between him running away and all the Equalist stuff, I mean."

"No idea," Tarrlok says. He knows that the world wouldn't have been particularly kind to a fourteen-year-old runaway from a small village, but that's all. "If you're trying to get inside his head, I wouldn't bother. It won't excuse anything he's done, and there's no point empathizing with someone who you might need to kill."

"Yeah, but..." Korra trails off. Her mouth hangs open slightly, and Tarrlok wants to tell her to stop looking so gormless.

"You want to tell me I'm wrong, but you can't think of a good argument for it," says Tarrlok.

"No. I just... I mean, I know he's a crappy human being, and I know you don't have to like the guy just because he's your brother, but I still get the feeling that you care about him."

"Then I'm the one who's best qualified to tell you that he's a lost cause," Tarrlok replies. "If you somehow let him live, then what? He'll spend the rest of his life in some Fire Nation prison? Because my father told me about those places, and I doubt they've improved much over the past thirty-odd years."

Korra says nothing.

Tarrlok adds, "The more you think about Noatak as a person, the more difficult it'll be to execute him. And if there's any doubt about your ability to kill someone in cold blood, then perhaps you should leave him to Katara."

"I know what I'm doing," Korra mutters.

Tarrlok rolls his eyes. "It's all very well fighting someone when you're angry... But you can't be angry all the time - and when you're not angry, you're far too soft and credulous. You're arbitrary and temperamental and you lack self-control."

Korra now raises her eyebrows. "Alright, now you've gone and turned this conversation around so you're attacking me again. Do you actually enjoy criticising me, or what?"

"I'm just being honest."

"No, you're being an asshole."

"Korra, you're the Avatar. People are going to say unpleasant things about you during your entire life, and occasionally these people will be telling the truth. The sooner you get used to it, the better."

Korra gives him a look of frustration, and puts the half-eaten crab on the ground, possibly so that she's not tempted to throw it at him. "That doesn't mean it's okay for you to be a dick to me."

Tarrlok shrugs. "I'm just saying that you could stand to grow a thicker skin."

"What, like you, you mean?" Korra says, bristling for a fight. "Because you're so thick-skinned?"

"I was a politician," Tarrlok says, simply.

Korra sticks out her chin, looks him right in the eye, and says, "You're pathetic, creepy, and weird, and you act like a jerk because it's the only way you can get attention and you're really lonely." Then she watches him as if she wants to see his reaction.

Tarrlok just sits there. He sits there, and he tells himself, fine, alright, now she's just being childish. She's a little less than half my age. I'm not going to let her get under my skin. That would be absurd. Maybe I'm just a little over-sensitive because I'm tired.

And now Korra is staring at him. "I didn't mean it," she says quickly.

Tarrlok struggles to think of a way to convince her that he's not offended.

Korra's face betrays the dawning horror of a girl who's just realized that she needs a large hook, some chains, a team of sled dogs, and a gallon of seal oil just to remove her foot from her mouth. "Look Tarrlok I'm really really sorry and I uh..."

Great, what sort of expression does Tarrlok have right now? He tries to adjust it so it looks less... however it looks at the moment. He laughs. "Don't worry. I've heard much worse."

This doesn't seem to reassure Korra at all. She looks as if she's about to run away and throw herself in the sea.

"Can you please stop staring at me like-" Tarrlok begins.

Korra lunges, and Tarrlok finds himself in the death-grip of a teenage girl. She wraps her arms around his torso in a move that looks suspiciously like a wrestling hold.

He manages to ask, "Wait, what are you doing?"

"I'm hugging you!" Korra says, indignant.

Oh, okay, for a moment there he thought she was trying to murder him again. "Ah, very well, fine, can you relax a little? Before I pass out?"

Korra relents slightly, and turns her head so she can scowl up at him. "Tarrlok. Listen. I didn't mean what I said."

"No, seriously, I'm not being sarcastic. You're crushing my ribs," Tarrlok says.

Korra releases him, and sits back. "I don't think you're pathetic, and you've been through a lot lately so I really should've have said anything like that," she insists.

Tarrlok actually feels slightly better for the hug, although he'd rather eat both of his shoes than admit that out loud. (A quiet voice at the back of his mind says: how sad did I look just then? And am I actually more endearing when I look sad? If I look sad enough, can I use it to make people give me things? Because I thought that stopped working when I was eleven.)

"Honestly," he says, using the tone that he once used when issuing orders, "don't worry. I'm actually tougher than I look." And in retrospect, it seems unfair that she's the one who has to apologize, given that he was criticizing her barely two minutes ago... But, then again, the apology seemed kind of... charitable, so Tarrlok quickly decides to just stop thinking about the matter.

"Yeah," Korra says, still frowning. "Okay."

Tarrlok fakes a small smile, and lets the current conversation die a natural death. He watches the fire. Out the corner of his eye, he notices Korra doing the same.

He tries to think of a way to lighten the mood.

(And no, he doesn't start singing.)

Then he puts his hands in his lap, and twiddles his thumbs. (Though the left thumb has to do most of the work. The right thumb is no longer a team player.) What should he talk about next? Should he ask Korra about her journey from the South Pole to Republic City? Should he ask her how she learned to survive by herself despite (presumably) spending most of her life under the watchful eye of the White Lotus? Should he-

Wait.

Tarrlok looks up just in time to see huge pale shape looming behind her, as if out of nowhere. Its beady eyes are fulled with ravenous hunger.

"Um," Tarrlok says, and points to the hairy, foul-smelling storm cloud loitering by Korra's left shoulder, "I think your-"

Korra looks to her left, to the half-eaten crab that she's left on the ground, but she's too late. Naga darts forwards. The beast's jaws make an audible 'gnomf' noise as they close around the crab. Then Naga lollops away across the sand dunes, tail held high in triumph.

"I WAS STILL EATING THAT CRAB," Korra yells in outrage, before springing to her feet and running after the bear dog.

"Like I say, temperamental," Tarrlok mutters, while Korra can't hear him.