Three Families

by James Golen

Three Families seek the Avatar. Three Families find the Avatar. Three Families use the Avatar. The story of how three sets of siblings are changed by the Avatar, amidst an endless war. AU, Want of A Nail.

34. Nila's Lost Day

Zha Yu stood back as the High Chief said his goodbyes. These weren't Zha Yu's people, after all, and while he did delight in spoiling tender moments, even he knew that there was a time and a place. The place was not a will-shattered, demoralized host of shell-shocked atrocity victims, and the time was not now. Hakoda had pulled Yue and Hahn aside, and was talking quietly to them in their own language. Zha Yu, as he was wont to do, allowed himself to overhear.

"While I'm gone, they will be looking to you, Yue. You're Arnook's daughter, and that still holds some weight with them. More than that, you are the Victorious Princess. They remember how much you sacrificed for them."

"I don't know if I'm ready for this kind of responsibility," Yue said. Hakoda sighed.

"We never are. That's the thing about responsibility. It comes when we least want it, and either breaks us or makes us strong enough to bear it. I'm sure that you're strong enough, Yue. No daughter of mine, step- or otherwise, would be anything less," he said, patting her caringly on the shoulder. "And as for you... don't get in her way."

Hahn leaned back. "What?"

"I'm serious. If I come back and my home is a puddle, I'm blaming you," Hakoda said with an impressive deadpan. "You don't want the High Chief blaming you, is that clear?"

"That's hardly fair," Hahn complained.

"If you were just listening, you'd notice I said life seldom was. Good luck, Yue," he leaned in to plant a kiss onto her hairline. "Keep our people strong."

"I will," Yue said, a small smile on her face. "...thank you."

"Don't thank me yet," Hakoda said. Hakoda then moved to Zha Yu's side. The two men stood side by side, and Hakoda momentarily leaned toward him. "You were listening, I presume?"

"I always listen. Otherwise I might miss something important," Zha Yu said. He cracked a smirk of his own. "Why the third degree on your sort-of-son-in-law?"

"He married the girl my son was in love with," Hakoda said. He gave the Mountain King a glance. "If I did any less, I'd be a traitor to my brood."

Zha Yu couldn't help but laugh at that. "Would that all fathers could think the same way. Of course, I'm one to talk. I'm pretty sure that every boyfriend Cho'e gets is going to run for the hills screaming by the time I'm done with them."

Hakoda turned to the earthbender more directly. "How are we supposed to get to your 'friends', anyway?"

"The fast way. Also, the most dangerous way possible short of walking through the Spirit World," Zha Yu said. He reached into his coat and pulled out that sphere, black with white stripes running along it. Or perhaps white with black stripes. But since the stripes moved, joined, split, and vacillated, it was hard to definitively pick which. In his hand, it felt slightly warm, especially compared to the brisk air of the south polar autumn. It also felt slightly fuzzy, like it was coated in the soft down of mudcomb bees. "You might want to close your eyes for this, Hakoda. It can be a bit intense the first time."

"Is this going to end with us covered in bees?" Hakoda asked levelly.

"No. Well, maybe. That happens only about forty percent of the time," Zha Yu said. "Nothing to worry about."

"That's still bad odds," Hakoda said.

"Look, would you rather walk?" Zha Yu asked.

"If it means I don't get covered in bees," Hakoda said with a smirk. Zha Yu just sighed, shook his head with a smirk of his own. It was refreshing to meet somebody with a sense of humor. Bato's had been a long time forming, and Piandao's had been gallows humor at best. Only Llewenydd was good for a laugh, since Sati was about as humorless as a swarm of bees. And now, one was dead, and the others... he didn't even know. He pressed his eyes shut, and held the ball, the Dirak artifact, high above his head. Usually, one had to precisely picture the inverse of your destination, substituting voids for objects and places. It was a tricky process, which lead to his experiments dropping him in Great Whales, Caldera City, and an iceberg floating past Henhiavut. So he did what was a lot easier, a lot harder to predict, and gave him a fairly good notion that the artifact was not only sapient, but liked to mess with people.

"Take me where I need to go," Zha Yu whispered in Uou, the language of spirits. With his eyes pressed closed, only his body could tell him that things were changing. The cold instantly vanished, replaced by a comparatively warm sense of nothingness, and his balance stopped working, like he'd suddenly found himself falling. But the sensation was short lived, because his weight quickly dropped back into his boots, and he felt himself tipping sideways, before letting out a surprised yelp and falling over, with Hakoda landing in a pile on top of him, as warmth took the place of cold, and surprised shouting took the place of pristine silence.

Zha Yu looked around, and saw why they'd fallen over. There was a dome of ice, carved right out of the glacier with their teleportation, which had tipped and dumped them, now rolling itself back to an equilibrium point now that the pesky humans weren't bothering it. The crowd – and there was quite a crowd – looked on with surprise, disbelief, and confusion. Hakoda rolled off of Zha Yu and looked around.

"Where are we?" Hakoda asked.

"From the omnipresence of walls, I'd say Ba Sing Se," Zha Yu quipped. He got to his feet, pocketing the Dirak. He took a deep breath. "From the smell – or rather the lack of an offensive one – I'd say we were in the Middle Ring. And from the blood droplets leading into that alley we're... wait a second."

Hakoda glanced toward him. "Hey, you two? Is that your ice?" somebody said in the crowd, dragging the Tribesman's attention away. A glance back to Zha Yu. Then, a smirk.

"Yes! Free samples to anybody with an ice-pick! Fresh as you'll find in the Polar Glaciers!" he said, waving his arms grandiosely. There was a murmur running through the crowd, before there were a few pleased expressions, and people moving forward with stilettos to start chipping away at it. "Be sure to visit my new franchise, Polarbear-dog's Shaved Ice! You'll see us soon!"

"Did you just come up with that off the top of your head?" Zha Yu asked.

"People are willing to overlook anything if they believe it's a marketing ploy," Hakoda said. "Now where's that blood going?"

Zha Yu motioned the other man to follow him, moving away from the people moving in to enjoy their fresh ice. It was likely a luxury that they hadn't entertained in years, since before General Iroh's attempt at cracking the Great Wall. Or, more accurately, since the snake shut those walls, and made it so hard to believe in a simple truth. They moved out of the crisp light of the early morning and into the long shadows cast by a low sun, and through the relatively uncluttered alleyway. That the buildings here were spaced fairly apart made it clear to see ahead of them. And it made the source of those blood droplets clear and obvious.

"Tui La, look at this poor... girl," Hakoda said, as they turned the battered, bleeding teenager over. "Who would do something like this?"

"A more important question would be, who in the Middle Ring would do something like this," Zha Yu corrected. "Do you recognize her?"

"No. She might be a Tribesman, from her color," Hakoda said, and then he skinned back an eyelid. What they saw there made both cringe. They tried the other. Bright green. "No. Not a Tribesman. Si Wongi, maybe."

"Si Wongi are relegated to the Lower Ring," Zha Yu said with a note of confusion. "Does she have any identifying papers? Who is she? How did she get up here?"

"Maybe we should figure that out once we know if she's going to live or not. She's probably going to lose that eye... unless..." Hakoda trailed off.

"You have an idea, don't you?" Zha Yu asked.

"I heard from some of the refugees that some Tribesmen fled south before the fall of Summavut, moving to Ba Sing Se to avoid Arnook's madness. There were waterbenders and healers amongst them. Probably why Arnook got so mad toward the end, so controlling. He could see his personal army slipping away. If we can find some of those waterbenders, we'll find the best healers left alive in this world," Hakoda said.

"That's a pretty good idea. But how do we get her to the healers? They'd be in the Lower Rings, too," Zha Yu pointed out. He paused, though, as Hakoda wiped some of the blood off of the girl's hands, and what he thought was dried blood turned out to be embedded ink. Zha Yu's eyes shot wide. "Oh... my."

"What is it?"

"I think I know who this is," Zha Yu said.

"Who? Who is it?"

"You remember the Dragon of the East? I'm pretty sure this is her daughter," Zha Yu let out a growl. "What is she doing here? She was supposed to go home! Nothing ever happens in Si Wong."

"This is Sati's girl? Hakoda asked. Zha Yu nodded. "Then we'd better get her to a healer fast. Maybe this is what that sphere of yours was aiming us at. You said it did have a way of taking you where you needed to go?"

"It did at that," Zha Yu agreed. He pulled off his cloak and used it to wrap the unconscious teenager. "Gods, I wonder what happened to her? It looks like somebody almost managed to murder her."

"We can worry about that later," Hakoda said, hoisting the girl up into his arms, before moving back and out of the alleyway, crossing the street, and making for the shadows where they were undoubtedly safer. Zha Yu gave a chuckle, though, as the crossed another threshold into shadow.

"I was just going to say, 'I wonder what the other guy looks like'," Zha Yu pointed out.

Not thirty seconds after they vanished from sight and earshot, two more Tribesmen walked down that street, pulling a distracted Si Wongi with them. "Come on, Sharif. Your house is just another block that way," Sokka said.

"Something doesn't feel right," Sharif complained.

"Feel right? We had to dig you out of a brothel district! You should have seen the looks those people were giving us!" Katara griped.

"Hey, look at that. Free ice," Sokka said, craning his neck back around.

"If you want ice, I can make you ice," Katara snipped. Sokka grinned, though.

"Yeah, but this is ice you didn't prepare. It'll taste better."

She stopped to give him a glare, which had been boiling up for several hours. "It's ice. It tastes like frozen water."

"You're obviously no connoisseur of ice," Sokka blithely stated. She muttered something dark and blasphemous, before continuing to their home. It had been a long night for both of them.

The day had only just risen.

---

Chapter 14

Nila's Lost Day

---

"Nila I promise that this isn't what it looks like. I swear I never thought he would get away from me, but..." Katara began explaining herself even as she walked through the door to the Si Wongi's house. She trailed off when she was greeted by silence, not even the popping of a fire, or the bubbling of the girl's dangerous alchemicals.

Sokka shoved in behind her, pushing Sharif before him as he entered the room. He glanced down at the floor, and gave a smirk. "I wonder if that'll finally be enough carpeting for her," he offered. He then glanced around. "Looks like nobody's home."

"Great," Katara said, throwing up her hands. "She's probably out looking for Sharif on her own, and will bite my head off the moment she gets back."

"My sister isn't here," Sharif said distantly, his glazed eyes slowly panning around the house.

"No, she isn't, Sharif," Sokka said idly. He shrugged. "Well, I think she'll probably be in a more forgiving mood because he's back here safe and sound. That's gotta be worth something."

"Do you think so?"

"Nah, she'll probably shoot you with that gun thing," Sokka countered effortlessly, and brayed laughter at Katara's poleaxed expression. "You're too easy, sis."

"This isn't funny! He could have been hurt! All because I couldn't keep track of him!"

"It is kinda funny," Sokka contended.

"It's funny because it's not going to hurt you when it comes," Katara pointed out.

"That's the essence of comedy in any situation."

"I hope that lady is alright," Sharif said distantly.

"What lady?" Katara asked, confused.

Sokka gave a nervous chuckle, and leaned toward her. "Do you think he... you know..."

"Just because we dragged him out of a brothel district doesn't mean he... I mean, he couldn't..." Katara was flabbergasted. "I don't even think he's interested in women, because of his injury."

"Unless the injury happened between his legs, I'd say there's a chance he was interested. Weren't you, Sharif?"

"I don't understand."

"That place we found you," Sokka coached.

"Oh... that was a strange place. They kept the buildings too hot for the women working there."

Katara frowned at the Si Wongi who spoke with quiet earnestness. "Why do you say that?"

"They were wearing so little. They must have been baking before I arrived," Sharif said with a degree of confidence which Katara wagered only mental disability could imbue into something so patently wrong. Of course, she was incorrect in that assessment, but she was sheltered and only a young woman herself. She shook her head, palming her forehead.

"Where would Nila be at this time of day?" she asked.

"That isn't her name," Sharif answered almost automatically.

"What? Well, what is her name then?" Katara asked. Sharif turned, raising a finger to his pronouncement, and then lapsed into fumbling silence.

"I don't remember," he said. There was a chirpy growl at the door, and Sokka pushed the door out to reveal the cub which they'd taken in. It was quickly growing, and soon would be big enough that it'd take both arms to lift it, but still had the blunted tusks, minimal horns, and brown fuzziness which made it adorable. It padded in, curled up on the carpets, and went to sleep. "Oh, my little friend is back. So comfortable, it is."

"Katara, why would Nila be away like this? She's smarter than that. If she thought Sharif was missing again, wouldn't she get our help?" Sokka asked.

"Would she?" Katara reflected the question back at him. Sokka nodded, then stopped, and pondered. And then, shrugged.

"You're right, she just might have. She's a stubborn girl. Like, crazy stubborn. She'd walk through a wall before admitting there might be a door she could use," Sokka gave a shrug. Katara smirked. She'd said much the same thing about Sokka, once. And his stubborn streaks remained as legendary today as they were when they were children.

"Should we go out and find her?"

"That's a bad plan. When you're lost, and you know somebody's looking for you, you don't try looking for them," Sokka shook his head. "We should stay right here. When she needs a place to sleep, she'll come back here and be slightly furious that you let Sharif go, rather then extremely furious that she couldn't find him at all."

"You don't need to paint me as the lax overseer in this," Katara muttered. "It's not my fault he used spirit magic on me."

"HAH! You called it spirit magic!" Sokka said triumphant.

"So what? It wasn't bending. I think that qualifies under at least slightly magical," she said, crossing her arms with annoyance. She loved her brother, but he did get under her skin sometimes.

"Would somebody tell me what you're all doing in this house?" Zuko's soft voice came from the doorway. "I thought we lived next door."

Instantly Katara's pique turned into simmering resentment. She glared daggers at the firebender, despite having admitted to the resident of this building that there might well be no valid reason for doing so. Still, the heart wanted what it wanted, and it wanted to beat Zuko black and blue with a rotting fish. "Yeah, is there some sort of party over here?" Toph's voice came from behind the firebender, who lurched somewhat as he was shoved aside. As Katara actually turned her attention to the two of them, rather than pointedly and studiously ignoring the source of that lightly lisping voice, she saw that they were both filthy, like they'd slept in a gutter.

"What happened to you two?" Katara asked.

"Celebration," Toph said off handedly. She stumbled as she mounted the carpets, and gave a groan. "Oh, come on! That just isn't funny! How do you people see with this stupid shag underfoot?"

"Perfectly well, thank you," Sokka said. "Celebrating what?"

"She got a doctorate," Zuko said, which caused Toph to turn and punch him very hard in the arm. He hissed with the pain of it, which caused Katara to smirk.

"Hey! I'm the one who gets to deliver the good news! You ruined it," Toph said sternly.

"Part of the reason I did it," Zuko offered with a smirk of his own. Toph glared at a bookshelf which was roughly in Zuko's direction, before shaking her head and turning somewhat back toward the Tribesmen.

"So where's Boomgirl and Chewtoy? I thought they were here pretty much every hour of the day. Well, not Chewtoy, 'cause he's got an actual job, but..."

"We don't know. We think maybe she left to find Sharif," Sokka cast a thumb behind him, which even Katara knew had to be pointless, because with the layers of carpeting underfoot, Toph would be utterly unable to perceive it. "How did you getting a doctorate end up covering you in filth?"

"Long story," Toph said.

"We almost got lynched by a bunch of bloodthirsty Si Wongi and had to sleep in a condemned building," Zuko answered. Which got him another punch for his trouble.

"Stop ruining my stories by making them sound so dull!" Toph complained.

"Brevity is the heart of wit," Zuko answered, rubbing his wounded arm. "They might be next door, and wondering why everybody's punching me in their house."

That was a possibility that Katara simply hadn't considered. With an ushering gesture, and some actual ushering for Toph, they all spilled back out onto the street, moved one doorway over, and entered into the vastly different – for all the buildings identical layout – edifice which Sokka's inventively named Team Avatar used as their temporary base of operations. And it was just as quiet as the Si Wongis' house had been.

"Where is the Avatar?" Zuko asked.

"Who wants to wager that he's helping Nila search for her brother in the city?" Sokka asked.

"That isn't her name," Sharif said with distracted tone. There was a nattering sound, as Momo flapped around the room, some sort of anxiety infesting him.

"So you said about staying here?" Katara asked.

"Still our best option," Sokka shrugged. "Since now we've gotta find Aang, too, and I imagine he'd be a bit hard to spot wandering the streets."

"He's not wrong," Zuko offered. Katara gave a glance toward him. He'd already spoken more to them all, and more openly, in the last five minutes than he had in the last nine days beforehand. "We should stay put. They'll come back."

"What happened to you two out there, really?" Sokka asked. Toph shrugged.

"Just a friendly night on the town," she said with a smirk, and a nudge, which happened to be into the same arm she'd belted twice. Thus, it ellicited a hiss of pain from the firebender.

"Watch it," he said idly.

"Oh, you know you like it," she said proudly.

And not a one of them wondered why Momo was so beside himself in agitation.

---

"Is that...?" the brother asked, tears failing to well in his dry, dry eyes.

"It has to be. Please, Agni, it has to be," the sister pleaded. He started running, ignoring the hitch in his step from the burns on his leg, while she fought to keep her path stable from the light-headedness. They both knew full well that there was a good chance that they would emerge dead, but at this point, there was little else to do but try. So when they dove through the fissure in the flesh of the Spirit World, it was into torrential rainfall, buffeted by scarlet light from guttering pyres.

Both dropped to their knees, dunking their faces into the ankle-deep puddles which filled every courtyard, heedlessly and powerfully drawing in every drop of water they could, as quickly as they could. Even as they felt the crackling and crumbling of their bodies, they fought to undo it, replacing water for water lost. Finally, when they could drink no more, and the pain stabilized, if not reduced, they both flopped onto their backs, soaking and saturating themselves in the downpour, staring up at black thunderheads.

"We're... alive?" Hisui asked.

"I can't believe it. We actually got out of... that place," he said. "Where were we?"

"I don't know, brother. I don't know," She stared up into the rain, grateful that the droplets soothed her aching eyes. "I... don't think anybody's ever been there, though. Those things didn't look... human."

Hai gave a croaking laugh, staring up at the rain. "And if we never go back, it'll be too soon. Agni's Blood, I hurt all over."

"I'm taking that as an indication to never get into a fight with the Avatar again," Hisui pointed out. The two siblings shared a shudder at the thought of the places that they had been. At the things they had seen. The Silver Men. The Long Roads through the endless darkness. A more vindictive person than they would have sworn revenge on the Avatar for inflicting that torment, that exile. But it took only a shared glance between the two of them to know that they would never, ever, stand before the Avatar again.

Not even for the Fire Lord. They knew what was at stake.

"I feel like I'm dead," Hisui griped, rubbing her head and feeling how the skin was only now starting to plump up again, drinking as greedily from the rain as the rest of her had. "And I'm pretty sure if we stay out here, we'll die of exposure. Which would make that whole walk a bit moot."

"Whatever you say, Sis," Hai said, sitting up, and hauling her to her feet. The two of them, each propping up the other, stumbled into the palace, which they had appeared in the center of a courtyard of. Home. They moved into the broad and vaulting corridors, dripping as they went, wearing mere scraps of what once had been resplendent – and durable – armor, and the attendants gave something of an outcry at their appearance.

The two shamans, though, continued, ignoring the presence of those worry-warts and sycophants. They had to report the failure of Thunder Dragon to the Fire Lord. And also request never to be sent anywhere near him again. As they walked, though, a familiar figure appeared to their weathered vision. She was a typical Azuli, which was to say she was slender, pale, and exuded an aura of utmost deadliness. Her shiny black hair fell almost to her ankles, would that she didn't keep it in a bun. And her eyes looked like silver. Needless to say, Hai was absolutely in love with her. "So you two aren't dead?"

"Of course not. Hasn't anybody ever told you?" Hai asked. "Children never die. We just grow up into rocks. We need to talk to the Fire Lord."

Maryah gave a shrug, a smirk coming to her face as she started to walk beside her fellow children, albeit being the only of the three of them who looked the part. "If this is about Thunder Dragon, you can save your breath. He knows it was a failure, and that his son is a traitor. He's not taking it well."

"What? Zuko can't have turned traitor," Hisui said, a hand flashing to cracked lips.

"You're just saying that because you think he's cute," Maryah mocked, which caused Hisui to blush furiously and glance away. She knew she wasn't very attractive, so that constituted a low-blow. "It is what it is. Prince Zuko has thrown in with the Avatar," Maryah shrugged. "I can't imagine why, but he did. Maybe he's just a masochist, and he wants to fail."

"You hold a high opinion of our chances. This war is hardly over," Hai pointed out. They turned another corner, and moved past a line of guards which seemed a bit further out than the siblings remembered. And when they passed it, they could see the usual line ahead of them. Both gave a confused look to their Azuli fellow Child.

"The Fire Lord mandated added security. Without an heir, it's only a matter of time before Montoya makes his move."

"What about the bastard?" Hai asked.

Maryah flashed a knife-like grin at that. "And here I thought you weren't paying attention. Girl's too young. He can't recognize her 'till she proves she won't die suddenly in the night for no reason."

"When the Azuli are around, lots of people die in the night for no reason, at any age," Hisui pointed out at a grumble.

Maryah gave a shrug. "Say what you will of my countrymen, we're good at what we do. That means the Children have to be better. I'm sure he'll see you, now," she then gave the closed doors a trio of sharp kicks near the base, as the soldiers milling in the hallways gave them strange looks. Not surprising. The two shamans looked like they'd crawled on their bellies through the broken glass of Hell. In a way, they really had. "He's been in a deadly mood for a while. I recommend keeping it brief and getting the hell out of there as soon as possible."

"Thank you, Maryah," Hai said.

"What?" she said, her jaw set. "I just don't want to see the only decent shamans in the Children get exiled because they couldn't keep their mouths shut when they could have."

The three of them proceeded in silence toward the hall of the Burning Throne. And it was clear that something was odd, because the flames were missing from the trough. And the one usually in charge of those flames was pacing on the shiny obsidian before them. The two shamans gave the Azuli a confused glance. Maryah seemed just as confused as they. Mostly because, even though Ozai was pacing, he was smiling.

Their confusion fled quickly, though, when he saw them, and that smile matured into something they were familiar with. It was the smile of a man about to do murder. "Ah. Children. Excellent," he said. "You will accompany me."

"Where, Fire Lord?" Hai asked.

"We are going on a journey," he said. As he moved closer, it was obvious that he wasn't really paying attention to them. And also obvious that his eyes were sunken, his skin gaunt. It looked like he hadn't slept in a week. "Everybody around me is either incompetent or treasonous in their hearts. If there is any hope of crushing the enemies of the Fire Nation, I'll have to do it myself!"

"Fire Lord, we must report on Operation Thunder Dragon..." Hai said carefully, which drew a sharp look from Maryah.

"A failure. Just as everything which passes out of my hands is. No. I must assume direct control of this situation. And that means, we are going to deal with things personally," he said, his tone quivering with expectation... and possibly anger and anxiety as well.

"W-where are we going, Fire Lord?" Hisui asked.

"Where else? We are going to Ba Sing Se," Ozai said with a smirk. Maryah leaned back.

"Fire Lord, I cannot advise this. That is a trip of weeks! Think of what the Azuli will do in your absence!" she pointed out. "And if you go to Ba Sing Se, how long then? Their walls couldn't fall to Thunder Dragon, and only..." she obviously was cutting herself off before she mentioned Ozai's brother. It was known that Iroh was not welcome in the capitol for quite a few years before Zhao named him traitor at Summavut. No need to incite their patron.

"Not weeks. A few days," Ozai said. "And the walls will be no obstacle to me."

The two shamans shared a glance, since they thought they knew what that meant. "I don't know if we will be capable of such... exertion," Hai admitted.

"What exertion?" Ozai snapped. He then looked at them more closely. "Your uniform is a shambles. Replace it and join me at the docks. We leave before sunrise."

With that, Ozai turned and departed from the hall, muttering to himself under his breath. The two shamans and the Azuli all turned to themselves. "Has he been like this the whole time?" Hisui asked quietly.

"It's gotten worse since Summavut," Maryah admitted.

"Why the docks?" Hai asked. "There's no rifts at the docks..."

"I think I know what he means," Maryah said. "Don't worry. You'll get plenty of rest for what's to come."

"You aren't coming?"

She shrugged. "Somebody's got to keep my ilk from killing his whore's daughter. Who better?" she asked, flicking knives into her hands. Hai gave a sigh.

"It's just... it'd have been better if you were with us."

"You don't say," Hisui said, cuffing him upside the head, which caused a clump of it to fall out. Yeesh, she made a point not to comb too vigorously for a few days. "Come on. The Fire Lord awaits us."

---

Long Feng was making his way home, after that long, hectic night, and one of the puppets matched him step for step. "She managed to escape," she concluded. Long Feng leveled a glare at her, as she walked with that same empty smile and those same hollow eyes. The shadowed master of the city let a growl percolate in his throat.

"'She managed to escape'? That's all you can say about it? Dead agents! Dead politicians and bureaucrats! Am I the only person in this city trying to keep things stable?" Long Feng muttered darkly.

"I am not sure I understand," the puppet said.

Long Feng took a calming breath, anchoring his rock-solid control, first of himself, then of his city. That was the way of things. If he slipped, then the city would surely follow. That he would not allow. "She can't have gotten far. She is no Avatar. She is a bendingless teenaged girl with no friends, no allies, and no support. Find her, and bring her in alive. Dead, she is of no use to us."

"As you say, minister," the puppet said. "The newest guest is still safely sedated. We will await your personal involvement to proceed."

"Good," Long Feng said quietly. Slow and steady, quiet and careful, those were the watch-words of his entire life. "Find out where the girl has gone to ground. Find out who helped her escape. I refuse to believe that my enemies are so powerful that they can topple my city singlehandedly."

The puppet nodded once more, and then kept walking, since Long Feng had arrived at his door. He made a note to assign a Joo Dee to the Avatar's residence soon; his hand was going to become obvious soon enough. Best that hand be closed into a strangling fist before the throat realized it could escape. And the one who'd just left was as good as any other. But for now, he had a home to return to.

Without this, nothing else mattered.

---

Earlier

"I assume that you have some miraculous plan to escape this calamity?" Ashan asked, glancing aside to Nila. She, unlike he, hadn't raised her hands in fear. She just stared, eyes starting to flick first from the green robed men, to the room around them all.

"I am improving in the arts of improvisation," Nila answered. She tilted her head. "On whose authority do you claim to arrest us?"

"That isn't yours to know," the green robe at the front snapped. Nila glared.

"You are Dai Li, are you not? Overwhelming power. I refuse to acknowledge your authority until I see a law which I have violated in my residence," Nila answered.

The Dai Li scowled. "You can either come with us quietly, or we will use force to subdue you. I recommend you come peaceably."

"On what charges? Upon what grounds? For what reasons?" Nila demanded. And as she did, her hands started to slide surreptitiously toward her soup. The Dai Li at the fore finally tired of her demands, and stepped forward from his ilk to loom over her more directly. And her hands caught bowl.

"This is your final warning, girl. Come with us now, or face the consequences," he demanded.

So she slammed the bowl full of scaldingly hot, oily soup into his face. Almost operating of one mind, Ashan twisted his arms down and then back up, causing a block of stone to rise up behind the agent. Blinded as he was by sea-prune stew, he could only topple backwards onto his back. The others, though, flanked out also of one mind, some of them bounding and sticking onto the walls like spiderflies. "Out the window!" Nila shouted, turning and bounding toward the railing which overlooked a long but survivable fall. Ashan was at her side in a moment, and as she was readying to drop, she felt his hand close on the waist of her pants, and heave back. She was about to angrily demand why when a black streak shot up from the ground, slamming into the stone above her face. It was a fist, rendered in dark basalt, which looked to have landed with enough power to cleave straight through her chestplate. She rolled to the edge, and had to duck back, as a second streak came up, bursting the rail she had peeked over.

There were more Dai Li below. Why so many? How so suddenly? She then had to shove Ashan aside, as a similar streak shot through the doorway from within, and almost slammed into his head. Likely, whatever treatment they wanted for her, would be doubly the lethal for him. After all, they likely considered him 'collateral damage' at best, and 'an obstacle' at worst.

"This is insanity! How do we escape?" Ashan asked, before his eyes went wide and he turned, slamming the base of his fist into a wall, and a block of it shot into the restaurant. It was obvious that the brick had a Dai Li stuck to it, and the way he landed was neither graceful nor painless.

"We are a barbed arrow in a wound, Ashan. The only way out, is through the blood and the meat," Nila said. She kicked to her feet, and heaved Ashan up with her, as they both dove into the restaurant's interior. The entire venue had devolved into screaming and violence, pandemonium and panic. Stone fists and great chunks of the structure were being thrown through the air, almost exclusively in Nila and Ashan's direction. They were outnumbered, surrounded, and outgunned.

Nila was just getting started. She kicked a table out from under one of the Dai Li which bounded down toward her, causing him to land on his hands and knees. She remedied that landing by kicking him very hard in the face. She felt something crack under her toes. Thank you, Tzu Zi, for 'buying' me sensible boots, Nila thought. She had only a moment to recover from the kick which left a Dai Li insensate on the floor when she felt something slam into the side of her neck, causing stars to alight in her vision, and her breath to vanish, as something tightened upon her throat. She felt herself turned, and saw Ashan reaching for her neck, and then, the strangulation ended with the sound of crumbling rock. "Come! We must flee!" Ashan snapped, terror clear in his tones and frankly, pointing out the obvious.

The two of them had made it all of three steps through the maelstrom before Ashan's step was curtailed, a stone fist slamming his arm against a wall and pinning it there. Nila instantly scanned the battleground, noting every Dai Li standing. There were more than a few. So she pulled a platter from a table and whipped it at the one which looked like he was offering a modicum more concentration than the others. The platter became a discus which caught the agent at eye-level, before shattering and sending shards in. Not expected, but absolutely welcomed.

"Mother, when will I ever need to know the discus? It is a stupid weapon!" Nila had, once, long ago, complained.

"You will thank me for this some day, child. Now do it again and do it correctly. Sharif is doing it correctly!"

"Sharif is showing off," the ten-year-old Nila complained, and picked up another discus. "...stupid weapon."

The grip on Ashan's arm loosened enough that he could bend the hand off of him, and dive behind a table as the agents turned from sending barrages of basalt gloves to sending hundreds of coin-sized pebbles at them, at incredible speed. Nila could feel the structural integrity of the tipped table starting to vanish. "We cannot keep this pace! Make a hole in the wall!"

"I have been trying!" Ashan said. He then cast out a sweep of the hand, and the stone lurched away from the wall of the structure, crumbling to dust and revealing metal underneath it. Nila gawked at it. Who built a stone house full of metal? The answer was absurd but obvious. Somebody who wanted to capture earthbenders without incident, and without any chance of escape. Well, Nila was making perfectly clear that this was not going to be a case without incident. He glanced aside, then shifted his posture, catching the arms of the table, and motion to the other side for Nila. "Raise the table. I need to see them!"

"This had better work," Nila said. Not a threat. An ardent, desperate hope. She heaved as he did, and they hoisted the table onto another, giving them room to almost stand. But not quite, as Nila learned to her displeasure; a chip of stone, perhaps as big as a finger, managed to burst through the edge of the table and crack into her head, splitting her scalp and causing blood to start running down her face. Ashan glanced around the table, and then with a grandiose gesture only possible for their added room, he slammed his feet down, and thrust his hands up. The floor and ceiling of the restaurant surged together in the center, leaving a gap only an inch high between them, and cutting off the barrage completely. But temporarily.

The Dai Li were already repositioning, and likely amending their tactics. Everything which failed was abandoned, that much was clear. They weren't brainless lackeys who would throw themselves upon the swords of their betters. She sprinted toward the doors leading outside once again, this time clearing a third of the room before a Dai Li interrupted her. The agent sent out both hands, black stone flared wide, trying to catch her arms and pin her down. She managed to duck one hand, but the other dug furrows into her flesh at the almost-miss, more blood dripping down into her shirt. Ashan was driven back, with the crack of a rib snapping, as that almost-strike caught him much more squarely. But with a twist, he burst the fists into dust, and continued, after only a moment of twisting his face into a rictus of pain.

"You can still run?"

"To the ends of the earth," Ashan answered her. The exit was close, but the Dai Li were moving to close it off. So they redoubled their efforts. She made it only a tiny distance before she felt her feet getting yanked out from under her. She slammed chin-first into the stone, fairly sure she felt her teeth loosen in her jaw, and stars once again flit through her eyes. And then, she started to drag, away from the door. Away from escape. She glanced over her shoulder. A Dai Li was reeling her in as though she were some sort of fish. She caught a glass goblet as she was hauled, and clutched hard. She would need utmost timing. Luckily, she had it.

The agent didn't say a word as she was brought to a halt, the grip on her ankle almost bone-breakingly tight. A fist tangled into her hair and dragged her up, instantly driving a fist into her diaphragm and casting the wind out of her. But she didn't need her wind to strike back. Despite the agony of being held aloft by her roots, she jammed the goblet into the side of the man's neck. As it shattered, she pushed harder, twisted, and pushed harder still, driving it deeper and deeper, until finally, red started to pulse out around it, and the man fell to the ground, clutching at his punctured carotid. Nila finally allowed herself a moment to try to start breathing again. It took more time than she would have liked. A glance up, and she could see a fist of stone catch Ashan across the forehead, splitting the skin and causing his face to vanish behind red.

And the Dai Li advanced toward them, implacable as death.

---

Calling that tavern a den of iniquity did disservice to dens and iniquity both. All the more reason for it to be the most sought-after meeting place for those who had much to lose, and much to hide. Places such as these ones developed a reputation which made them watched by authorities, but usually, watched for the wrong reasons, and by the wrong people. And anybody who hadn't forgotten the finer points of subtlety could get away with murder and treason in such dank environs. Needless to say, those weren't on the agenda at the moment. The Mountain King gave a glance to the man who was his current companion; over the course of his life, he'd had many. He was quite a bit older than he looked. Then again, whether it was his distant if present blood-connection to the supercentinarian King Bumi, or just that he'd lead a life well lived, the years didn't drag as heavily on him as did most. Hakoda, the man to Zha Yu's side, looked his age. The man had a bit of guile to him, but just enough to know that he was a child playing in a field of fire-mines, and had enough sense to watch where he set his foot. Sati had once been so careful. The years had made her arrogant.

"She's not going to get better propped up against a box," Hakoda whispered urgently. "I should be out there."

"There are ways that things are done," Zha Yu pointed out. "If I invite myself openly, but bring another quietly, the doors will remain closed to us. She's hidden. For the moment, she's safe. There's nothing else you or I could do to help her, anyway."

"That doesn't mean I like it," Hakoda muttered. Zha Yu took a seat before a Pai Sho board. There was a meek, mousy looking woman sitting opposite him, a woman out of place amongst the shouting and the boors, the craven, the depraved, and the licentious. A target so obvious that nobody could see it. And not the person that Zha Yu was expecting.

"Would you mind a small wager on a friendly game?" Zha Yu asked, setting down a silver coin. One rubble was childish stakes, but it, and the words which joined it, were a code kept carefully secret. There were snakes in the long grass, especially in places like this.

"The visitor has the first move," the woman said, her dark eyes flitting around nervously. Zha Yu placed his White Lotus at the heart of the board. "A-ah... So I see you favor the White Lotus gambit?"

"An interesting if illegal move. Will you allow it?"

"There is always allowance for those who follow the old ways," she said, still nervous in tone and cadence. She and Zha Yu then alternated laying tiles. But something was wrong. She made a mistake. Zha Yu's brow furrowed, but he continued. She might be new, and nervous. Or... Another mistake, a very specific mistake, turned suspicion into alarm. He glanced up to her, his green and brown eyes locking with her nearly black. He forced a smile onto his lips. It didn't reach his eyes.

"Well, I can see how this game is shaping up. I believe you will have me soon enough. Take your coin. You're welcome to it," Zha Yu said.

"Good – I mean... It's fortunate that you didn't prolong the inevitable," she said, staying still so forcefully that Zha Yu knew it was the only way she could keep from trembling. Zha Yu gave her a nod, then rose, grabbing Hakoda's shoulder as he turned and heading out the door.

"What was all that about?" Hakoda asked.

"The Order is compromised in Ba Sing Se. I have to assume that means that my old contacts are dead or worse, and that Sati has been captured," Zha Yu muttered as he walked, speaking just loud enough that it wouldn't carry past the Tribesman amidst the din.

"That's a lot from a few bad Pai Sho moves," Hakoda said. "Who did you say you worked for again?"

"Not for. With," Zha Yu corrected. "There's no real leadership. Just a group of like-minded old-people who know that the world can't continue on the course it's on, and are willing to take action to stop it."

Hakoda smirked. "How old do you have to be to join?"

"Old enough to know that some things are worth sacrificing safety, comfort, and blood for," Zha Yu answered, as the two of them moved out the door and around the building. The girl was exactly where they'd left her, breathing shallowly but otherwise showing no real signs of life. Considering the state of her, they'd had to unmake her clothing just to get rid of the infection risk it presented. The blanket Zha Yu bought straight out of a laundryshop was her only adornment, but it was blessedly clean. She looked in poor shape. And would likely get worse without help. Hakoda scooped her up, and the two of them continued moving through the warren of streets.

Getting the injured girl down out of the Middle Ring had been almost contemptuously easy. It was the easiest thing, in fact; they just told the truth, that they were trying to find a waterbender to heal an injured girl. Of course, that truth had been levied high with lies, such as claiming that the girl was Hakoda's daughter, or the implicit understanding that they were both Middle Ring natives. Exiting the Middle Ring was easy. Getting back in would be very, very difficult. Especially since the only Green Level Pass they had amongst them was covered in blood. Zha Yu had planned on retrieving his old Gold Level Pass, but if the Order was in hiding, then that might well already be in the hands of the snake. Or just burned or stolen. There was no accounting for taste, after all.

"Well, what do we do now?" Hakoda asked. There was a distinct note of tension in his voice. And a distinct sensation of protectiveness. Then again, Zha Yu knew why. He'd heard that story. He'd lost his firstborn daughter long ago, and now, a girl who was around the same age as the one he'd had left was lying nearly dead in his arms. It had to weigh heavy on him. It would weigh heavy on any sane human.

"South," Zha Yu said. "The waterworks of lower Ba Sing Se is in the south end of the Lower Ring. My guess is that any waterbenders in the city would gather there," he gave a shrug. "Closer to their element, and such."

"That's a pretty weak argument," Hakoda pointed out.

"Well, forgive me for having my best plan prove utterly useless!" Zha Yu said with annoyance, before sighing and palming his face. "I'm sorry, I'm just angry that we've lost so much ground. This used to be the heart of our Order. Now, the heart is missing beats, there's clots in its arteries, and its doctor is advising it that it can either stop eating sweets or it'll lose a foot."

"...that metaphor went somewhere unexpected, didn't it?" Hakoda asked.

"...maybe a little," Zha Yu admitted. "At least it didn't go toward a greasy finger."

"Maybe you should stop talking for a while, and start looking for Tribesmen," Hakoda said.

"Found one," Zha Yu said. Hakoda twisted his neck, looking in all directions, then stopped, and glared at Zha Yu.

"You meant me, didn't you?"

Zha Yu grinned. And contrary to the grim expectations he'd held, Hakoda started laughing. The conversation as they walked, the girl cradled in the Tribesman's arms, was mostly about old jokes, old stories, old loves lost and won. Old battles, victorious and ignominious. Both had done quite a bit of walking in their lives. The journey through packed, filthy streets was no task of endurance. Only time. Time which the Mountain King was fairly sure they were slowly running out of.

"Hold on," Hakoda said, edging Zha Yu behind him as they entered a piece of Lower Ring which looked essentially identical to any other. His face, though, had gone from jovial and nostalgic to the planes and focus of a hunting beast. The Tribesman's eyes saw something that Zha Yu's did not. Zha Yu grunted his confusion. "There. That towel."

"The blue one?" Zha Yu asked.

"That's the sign of the Borguk Clan. I've traded with them quite a bit when I was young. Back before the War reached them," Hakoda clarified somewhat pointlessly.

"Borguk? Should that be familiar to me?" Zha Yu asked.

"Probably not. Famous waterbending warriors, but in recent years, their line filled up with daughters. Which works for us, if that is what I think it is."

"And if it isn't?" Zha Yu said, having to root himself against the crowds which brushed and buffeted past him.

"Then we're knocking on the door of somebody who bought a Tribesman's towel, and we look like idiots," Hakoda said. And then, he was walking toward the tenement building. Obviously, looking the fool was not a problem which ranked high on Hakoda's hierarchy of things to avoid. Such would have been obvious to anybody who spent any amount of time talking to the man.

The doors were in poor shape, but at least weren't laying flat on the patio like the building next to it. Zha Yu, who still had hands to use, knocked sharply on it. "I assume you have some way of contacting your Tribal ilk? Because if not, I doubt we're getting past this door."

"I hadn't thought of it. I'm just going to improvise," Hakoda said distantly, as the girl in his arms let out a sound, a few words muttered insensately in Altuundili. While Zha Yu was proficient in it, hearing it slurred made it undecipherable. That made Hakoda pull the girl in a little closer, his face growing all the more protective. This might not be his daughter, but today, she would be as well protected as her.

The door opened, as Zha Yu was concocting a worthwhile lie to tell the superintendent, something that would get them inside.

It was made somewhat moot by blue eyes staring back at them. "What's going on out here? Why are you..." he asked in heavily accented and difficult Tianxia. Then, he looked down at the injured girl. "Cousin, is that your child?"

"No, but she is badly hurt, and I need a waterbender to heal her. Is the Borguk Clan truly under this roof?" Hakoda asked.

"Something like it," the superintendent, that somehow miraculously a Tribesman, said. "Come inside. Not you, you can stay out..."

"He comes with me. I wouldn't have made it here without him," Hakoda countered. The Tribesman glanced between the two of them, then sighed and beckoned the Mountain King enter as well, before closing the door. On the other side of that door, Zha Yu could see a plethora of heavy locks, several of which the man slid closed. He turned back to Hakoda.

"My name is Arsuk. This is our home."

"Our?" Zha Yu asked.

"You speak the tongue of glaciers and cold winds? Surprising," Arsuk muttered.

Hakoda shook his head. "He's a surprising man. What did you mean, 'something like it'?" he demanded.

"The Borguk are here, but they've lost their nerve," Arsuk said.

"Wait, all of them?" Hakoda asked.

"The whole family," Arsuk answered. As they moved, Zha Yu could see doors cracking open. Eyes of blue and brown, skin dark of shade, one and all they cautiously peered out. "Arnook was going mad. We fled while we still had our heads. We heard that the Spikerim fell at the end of winter. Are the rumors true?"

Hakoda sighed, and nodded. "Arnook is dead, and Summavut has fallen," Hakoda reported. "Why did you come here?"

"Can you think of a place farther from Arnook's grasp?" Arsuk asked. "Bad enough to share a name with that madman. I had to mangle it just so I could look at myself in the mirror each morning. Who is this girl, then, if she is no blood of yours?"

"The child of a friend," Zha Yu answered for Hakoda.

"Blood stands thicker than wine, Easterner, and family values higher than friendship these days," Arsuk pointed out. Hakoda stomped a foot, which turned the Tribesman to him.

"You will heal her," Hakoda demanded. "As long as there is one waterbender of Borguk's line, she will be healed, today!"

"What does that make her to you, then?"

"A child who needs help," Hakoda answered. Arsuk gave him a confused look, then realization dawned on him.

"You're Southern Tribe, aren't you? I thought the accent sounded different," he reached out and patted Hakoda on the shoulder, sympathy clear in his face. "For what it's worth, I think I know the pain you've felt for the loss of your children as clearly as any. I lost a daughter to the Fire Nation three years ago, before we decided to flee south. This war is insane, and brings insanity out in people."

"That it does," Hakoda agreed. "Where is Borguk?"

Arsuk beckoned them up the stairs. "They stay on the top floor. It's quieter up there. Not as many people. I fought on the Spikerim for a while, but nothing like what they had to do. I swear, some of them, it makes you wonder how much of their soul is left," he shook his head, his wolf's tail swinging behind him. "Talk quiet and carefully. They'll see you if they can."

"Any healers amongst them?" Zha Yu asked.

Arsuk let out a bitter laugh. "Once you've fought the Fire Nation in the North, everybody's a healer. Either that, or dead. They've suffered worse than most. Remember that. And for the love of hearthfire, don't pick a fight with them. The last time they snapped and went on a rampage, it took everything we had to calm them down before somebody important died," Arsuk said, coming to a halt before a door at the second highest level of the building. The roof stood above, but nobody would live up there. It attracted too much risk, since any earthbender could easily climb up and loot them. The door opened, and inside...

There were three, in the room which was devoid of any decoration. All of them had shaved heads, which was significant in that one of them was a woman. One of the men stared ahead, unmoving, his eyes almost glassy to look at. The woman was minutely more spirited, slowly stirring a pot of stew. The last, and the oldest, had a beard to make up for what was likely natural baldness. That one looked the most lively of them all, and turned a cautious eye toward the newcomers the moment the door opened.

"What do you want of me. I'm old, and I have little desire to see the bloody-minded," he said.

"Old Borguk? You're alive?" Hakoda asked.

"Who's asking?" Old Borguk asked. Then, he tilted his head. "Wait... Hakoda of the South. You've come a long way to this pile of dung on a fire. What do you want from us? Did Arnook send you to collect his scattered warriors, or is there mercy in the universe enough to find him dead?"

"Arnook is dead, and I have no need of fighters. Borguk Clan had strong healers, and the girl needs help. Can you help her?"

"Why should I help you? I'm sick of hurting, and I'm sick of fighting," Old Borguk asked.

Hakoda took a quiet breath, and looked the man in the eye. "Because your High Chief has asked it of you."

"High Chief?" Old Borguk asked, reading between the metaphorical lines. "So... you killed Arnook in the Circle of Knives. Good for you," he said. "But good deeds don't fill bellies. Especially when my grandson and granddaughter are in no condition to earn for themselves."

"I have money," Zha Yu said. Old Borguk turned his attention to the Easterner.

"Good. Pay upfront, and I'll look after the girl," he cracked his knuckles, then walked over and whispered to the girl. She turned toward him, her hands picking at her scalp. Zha Yu could see why their heads were shaved. She'd likely have pulled her own hair out by the roots had they not. Nervous habits were born like weeds in times of terror. Old Borguk laid the girl out on a cot, and the girl began to set water aglow upon her hands. Zha Yu just tossed the old man his entire purse of silver. He had a second on him, and the girl's life was worth all of it and more.

"Rough start," Zha Yu muttered, as he leaned against a wall, Hakoda slumping beside him.

"But it is a start. That's not nothing," Hakoda pointed out.

---

Earlier:

Seeing Ashan's face bloodied as it was sparked a rage in her she didn't know was possible. Not that somebody had damaged him because she felt any significant romantic attraction to him – that was entirely premature – but because at its most basic level, for all her failures as a Si Wongi, in attacking Ashan, they attacked her. More personally, she was not going to allow anybody to hurt her friends. Even if those friends did make her contemplate murder from time to time. She was already running, her ankle sending out searing jolts every time she put weight onto it, but she didn't care. With increasingly blood-slicked hands, she grabbed a chair from a hastily evacuated table, and hurled it ahead of her. While she was useless with a bow, there were certain things she learned well. Riflery she had learned on her own, and of her own initiative. The knife she knew well enough not to stab herself in the thigh. But what Nila had excelled at, was the catch-as-catch-can style of 'self defense' Mother had foist upon her. So if a chair to an offending face would help save a friend, then that chair would fly, true and swift.

It smashed into the Dai Li who was closest to Ashan, giving him a chance to catch his balance, swipe the blood from his eyes, and then hurl a decorative centerpiece at another Dai Li who was lashing forward with a block of stone. Not nearly so effective in injury, it did serve a valuable purpose in exploding into flower petals, detritus, and some sort of silver, hanging powder which must have burned the lungs, because the Dai Li started coughing as soon as he tried to send another block through. Nila had almost crossed the distance, so quickly grabbed a fallen pepper mill, and slammed it against the stone of a pillar which rose for no structural reason, but served to break the cap off of it. She felt a thud slam into her from behind, and had to dive to the floor, so that the fist which had grabbed at her waist could continue past with a rip of tearing cloth, and just barely miss snagging agonizingly in her hair. She didn't look back. She didn't have the time. Another Dai Li was closing on Ashan.

She pushed herself to a sprint without a word, ignoring the pain from the various wounds and what was assuredly a broken backrib, and splashed the entire vessel's worth of pepper grease into the face of the abductor, causing him to fall back, clutching at his face and screaming. "Can you still run?" Nila asked, for the third time in as many minutes.

"Like the storm," Ashan said, but between her wounded foot and his obvious concussion, they were hobbling out painfully slow, and she knew that there would be more outside.

There were more than Nila expected. Because the crowd which had started fleeing as soon as the fight began was still trying to press out through the doors, and they were not intended for such traffic. She glanced around, but the only windows were built too high on the walls, and there was no easy way for her to reach them, let alone a swift enough one. The only way out, was through.

"Don't let them escape! Bring them down! We need her alive!" a voice called from somewhere unseen, but Nila was already attempting to belie his efforts. Supporting each other as they fled, they descended down the short flight of stairs to the reception area, and the hordes of terrified diners who were now trapped between two layers of Dai Li. Nila glanced back just in time to be able to shove Ashan to the floor, and slam herself downward as well, as an entire step of the stairway flew towards their backs. By dropping, they only ensured that it would slam into the crowd, instead. If the Dai Li cared, they did not show it. Their focus was entirely on the Si Wongi. The screaming had turned from alarm to pants-wetting terror, as names were shouted and people, men and women both, began to weep in mortal terror.

The crowd was huddled on the floor, lying down, trying to stay away from the blood and the broken bodies of innocent victims. That meant that Nila had a way through the door. She hauled Ashan up and started to run over the bodies of the fearful, stepping on shoulders, backs or faces as the need arrived. But she cleared the door, just in time to have another stone glove slam into the back of her neck, and send her flying off of the patio, its fingers tightening into her spine for a moment, before there was a crumbling sensation and it fell away. No doubt a sandbender/earthbender to the rescue, and she felt no sting even inwardly to complain. She glanced up, and saw that other Dai Li were arrayed in an arrow-head formation, the foremost of them reaching into a very odd pouch on his hip. The pouch looked to be made of iron. When he withdrew the hand, it was covered in shiny black, clicking as beyond-razor-sharp shards slid past each other in movement.

Obsidian.

Others began to arm themselves likewise, but they were a select and supposedly elite few. The first had almost reached her, and she had barely returned to her feet – since it was getting damnably hard to keep thinking straight after all the blows to the head – when there was a rumble, and then a boom, followed by a wall of stone rising right into his chin, sending him somersaulting through the air, broken teeth completing the arc of his transit. A fuzzy part of her cognition knew that there was a mathematical formula which their movement described, but for the life of her, she couldn't remember what it was.

She shook her head, and made herself focus. Injury wasn't going to stop her. She just needed to push through. Ashan, at her back, did something with earthbending which caused the patio to slide up over the doors. While that would give their pursuers very little pause, and her ambushers none, it was something. Maybe. Nila, though, pulled the only actual weapon she had on her, tearing an explosive lemon out of the secret pocket, and primed it, before throwing it straight up, turning away with her fingers blocking her eyes and firmly plugging her nostrils. Just as she could hear the stone shoes of the Dai Li surround her, there was a loud bang, followed by wheezing, and stumbling. Nila didn't open her eyes. She didn't dare. So she planted her feet, squared a shoulder, and barreled forward, managing to clip one of the Dai Li enough that she almost fell over, but he definitely did. Her face burned like fire, but after she made it five paces, she opened her eyes and started breathing again. Many of the Dai Li were taken by paroxysms of coughing, but not her. She hoped that the blood wouldn't drip the grease into her eyes, but that was a hope which would be seen true or not in the next few minutes, not the next few seconds.

She couldn't see where Ashan was, but she could see the enemy. There were two of them, one of them holding an obsidian glove, the other not. She limped aside of the dark stone fist of the blunter of two weapons, and then had to dodge more nimbly to avoid the razor slash of the blades. Since she was physically incapable of more agility at this point, it caught at the flesh near her ear and tore down, causing warmth to start to flood down her neck. Not pulse, though. He hadn't hit an artery.

She stumbled backwards, and then ducked another swipe by the lesser armed of the two. She couldn't deal with both alone. And there would be more, if they learned that milk would cure them. Ashan... likely had his own problems, as surely not all had focused upon her. So she dodged as best she could. And it wasn't enough. There was no more tearing sound, but she could tell by the way her clothes felt that his slashing hand was getting entirely too close to her, if not opening her up, a perfect incision as a time. She needed the right moment. And then she had it, dragging the knife from her belt and thrusting upward.

Just as that hand came back around and scoured up. She pulled her head back at what would have been a desperate defense, weaponized into attack, but she couldn't pull back far enough, and in an instant, half of the world's light vanished, and she felt like she'd suddenly wept an hour down her cheek. But her momentum was not so easily deferred, and the stiletto rammed up through his chin, through his mouth, and then right past his palette into his brainpan. The twisting motion of her agony and his instantaneous demise caused the weapon to buckle, and then snap off the blade inside his head. Just about her worst-case scenario, actually. Well, it got worse, because the other Dai Li was charging toward her, and tackled her clear off her feet, slamming her into the side of an advertisement kiosk which stood near the center of the courtyard. She let out a scream, and punched him in the side of the neck as hard as she could, but all she managed to do was hurt her fist. She didn't know how long she had. She had to get free. She had to flee. She had to get Ashan away from here before they killed him, and captured her! Twice in bondage was enough for her lifetime thank-you-very-much!

But when she finally got his face back into her field of vision, which seemed markedly more restricted at the moment, it wasn't to cold focus, nor hot-blooded wrath. It was a look of utter disbelief, and a leaking of blood from his nostrils. Then, she looked a bit more to the side, and saw that Ashan's fist was clenched around an irregular shard of stone, which he'd driven into the man's temple. The Dai Li fell away, and Ashan stared, agape after it.

"Nebt-het forgive me, I find myself a murderer!" Ashan said. He looked in terrible shape. His face was already swelling from blows, and one of his arms hung almost uselessly at his side, even as he palmed away blood from his eyes. But he pressed those eyes closed, and shook his head. He had to know this wasn't the time. "Nila, are you alright? I saw... Djehuty's Blood! Nila!"

Nila pushed off the kiosk, and glanced back, where the other Dai Li were still writhing on the ground. The detritus hadn't been cleared yet from the door, for reasons she couldn't comprehend. They had to be running out of time. "We must flee, Ashan!"

"Nila, your eye! Do you not feel the pain of it?" Ashan asked, flopping his useless arm over her shoulder to help the two of them walk. She touched her cheek, and found it was much pinker than the blood should have been. Like something had watered it down. Then, she moved the finger a little higher... and noticed she couldn't see it. She shuddered, and grit her teeth.

"It can be suffered later in safety, or else never! Flee, you soft-hearted fool!" Nila ordered. The two of them limped, putting distance between the screams, the blood, the fear.

And slowly...

...slowly...

things got dark.

and cold.

And then she felt herself falling toward the stone streets, as the adrenaline gave out, and consciousness fled her completely.

---

The feet walked, but the soul didn't guide them.

Grey eyes flit around the landscape, but as with the feet, they weren't controlled by the person whose body they belonged to. It was just a matter of person-puppetry, of something jerking her along one step at a time, feeling a constant agony, an insatiable hunger. The hunger scoured through the poor airbender's mind, flaying her senses with brutal and unrelenting stimulus, constant demands. Eat the meat. Drink the blood. Keep walking.

"So... hungry..." Malu's lips twitched. There was nothing to eat here, on the easternmost edge of the Great Divide. She had done nothing else since she got here. Usually, the Divide would be alive with the song of birds, and underscored by the steady thrum of the Canyon Crawlers. The night would be heralded in by the hum of cicadas. The morning, the call of moose-lions, warning others of their like to stay away, because this little piece of the Divide was theirs. She walked, and the tiny portion of her mind which was still intact knew that it had to expect this song of nature.

Silence.

Not surprising. One would only need to follow the trail of the dead, those bits which she was not physically capable of eating, to find the path she had walked. The Divide should have been alive and a calamity of din, but it was silent, because Malu, and the thing inside of her, had eaten anything which dared make a noise. Birds? Struck from the air with airbending. Crawlers? Smashed to bits, and their ichors drunk. Moose-lions? Well, they weren't stamina hunters, and at the moment, there was no force on this planet, not violence nor pain nor death, which would keep Malu from her feast. The only things which evaded her, which sent her wailing into the sky, were the bison, whom she could neither ground nor tear apart, despite the bounty of desperately desired food that each represented.

As Malu walked, she wept. The pain was reason enough to weep, spreading through her as a cancer, unrelenting and unbearable. But far worse even than that pain was the knowledge. That she was a failure as an Air Nomad. That she was a horrible person. That she was a monster. That she was helpless. That there was no hope for her.

She could feel the pain, the fear, the guilt, all of it tearing her apart. Soon she wouldn't care. Maybe, soon, she wouldn't be human at all anymore, and the pain would stop. Or at least, she wouldn't care about it. And the thought of that made her weep all the harder.

She was almost naked, but nobody would be able to tell that at first glance. Between the layers of mud and other less pleasant, viscous substances, she was covered from her jaw to her toes. She looked every inch of her the wild-woman. And appropriately. She didn't care. The only thoughts Malu had, at the moment, were to the pain, to the hunger, and to the guilt. How fortunate that she'd never been particularly vain. Her steps dragged in the mud of the trickle of water which moved down into the canyon, and her sobbing became more ragged, more pain-infused.

She just wanted it to stop.

As she wept, the remnants of her kavi lifted away from her back, as a great festering tumor began to mount there, expanding swiftly and unnoticed by the unfortunate host of it. The skin roiled and mounted, as though it was playing host to a rapidly increasing number of roiling worms. It boiled higher, stretching her skin until it was almost transparent, revealing the undulating blackness under it, a mass almost as big as Malu was, rising up behind her neck, as she sobbingly trudged in a direction she could not pick, for reasons she could not fathom.

Then, a burst.

She barely noticed the pain of her skin erupting, so great was her constant agony. To any lay observer, it looked like a boil of black blood had exploded from her back, spraying everything in the surrounding landscape with that dark fluid, a great wedge of the Divide darkened by its presence as it splattered against rocks and settled into the stream. Then, the skin, hanging down around the ruins of her kavi like a skin cloak, began to pull together again, the black threads insistently tugging it into place, making it whole. She never looked back, at the darker canyon behind her. She couldn't even think to. She just kept walking.

To a shaman observer, though, the scene was far more dire. She kept suffling forward, away from the devastation she'd wrought, unaware that as she walked away, the acid of Imbalances blood ate, not at the stone or the water, but at the fabric of reality itself. Its blood was not black, nor grey. It was clear as water. But there was darkness, there, clear for any to see. They saw only the side effect of its hunger, as it vomited forth its bile onto the Mortal World, and dissolved it, leaving only the naked Spirit underneath it. As she walked the Divide, she had done so dozens of times, huge swaths of the canyon no longer truly a place in the physical world. The veil between that world and the Spirit world had been worn through completely.

The Great Divide, as of Malu's passage, no longer existed. In its place, the tepid waterways, the silence, the darkness of the dying Spirit World.

"I'm so hungry," Malu wept, as she kept walking. "Please... somebody..."

Feet shuffled through the mud, as the hunger continued wailing unabated. No relief. And her body willed her forward. It was almost like Malu was trapped in a corner of a room inside her own mind, curled up into a fetal ball and shivering, waiting for the next travesty, the next abomination, the next agony. As it was, she just wept, and walked.

"...make it stop..."

---

Mai continued leaning against the wall as she waited for Azula to regain consciousness. Whatever that waterbender had done to her seriously did a number on her. "You think she's gonna make it?" Smellerbee asked.

"She'll make it," Mai said simply. Longshot raised a brow toward her, a clear 'she was in pretty rough shape last time we intervened as well', to which she answered. "She'll make it."

Longshot's shrug needed no translation. Jet, though, was pacing. He had a look in his eyes, like he was a wolfbat stalking something through the dark. The glances he shot toward Azula weren't the kindest. Mai sighed, and pushed herself off the wall. A glance toward Longshot had the same effect that his glances had on others. It told him to stay here and watch over the unconscious firebender. She then grabbed Jet's arm as he completed another circuit and dragged him from the room.

"Whoa, what? M... Shadow, what are you...?" Jet began, even as she was closing the door and moving up toward the roof.

"You've got murder in your eyes, Jet," Mai said simply.

"What? I do not."

She pushed open the door to the roof, relieved to find it empty despite the hour. Usually there was somebody doing laundry. Then again, ever since the Dragon's Daughter left, the place had quieted down quite a bit. "You do. You keep looking at Azula like you want to see what she looks like on the inside," Mai pointed out, her usually flat tones heating up.

"I'm telling you, I'm not like that! Not anymore!"

"You tried to kill me when you first met me, and you had the same look in your eyes then as you do now," Mai pointed out, crossing her arms before her chest. Jet glanced away, shame slowly working to overtake irrational rage. "This is because of what she is, isn't it?"

"Firebenders took everything away from me," Jet managed to keep his voice low, but his tone was as hot as the subject they described.

"Yeah, and I blame waterbenders for my parents' deaths," Mai said with her usual sarcasm. Jet thrust a hand down.

"She's the daughter of the enemy! The man even you swore to kill!" Jet hissed.

"Daughter of. Not the Fire Lord himself," Mai stressed, her eyes snapping. "By that logic, you should have killed me when I was nine, since I am still technically Fire Nation nobility."

"Hey, shut up! Do you want all of Ba Sing Se to hear you?" Jet glanced around with alarm. And damn it, he was right. Mai took a purging breath, which sounded like a sigh, but was directed at her own rashness rather than somebody else's stupidity. He took her to the laundry pole, and the two of them sat down, elbow to elbow, at its base. "Something else is bothering you, isn't it?"

"We're going nowhere," Mai muttered. "I thought... for sure... that if we made it to Ba Sing Se, we could do something. Make something happen," She sighed, then, again at herself. "Shows what I know."

"It was a better plan than I had," Jet pointed out. "I... I know, in my brain, that she's your old friend, and that I should treat her nice and sweet, but... The way she looks at me..."

He let out a breath of his own. Mai turned to him. "What?" she asked.

"You know about how I lost my home," Jet pointed out. "When... that happened... there was a firebender. I barely made it out. The stink was so... and he looked at me, with such disdain, such dismissal. I wasn't even worth the effort to murder," he turned to look her in the eye. "Azula looks at me like that. I hate it. Every time I do, I just get–"

"I think I understand," Mai said. She laced her fingers through his, pulling his hand close. "Azula's... never been exactly nice. She's a lot stronger than I thought she'd be, given the things I'd heard about her, but when she was young, she was the social circle's bully. Some things don't change."

Jet nodded, staring at her hand through his. "Maybe you're right. Maybe I'm just seeing something that isn't there."

"Don't make a habit of it," Mai warned with a sardonic smirk. The two of them remained up there for a while, just feeling the breeze as it wafted along the rooftops. Honestly, it wasn't terrible. After a long pause, and a deep breath, she turned to her partner in crimes and many other things. "So. Figure you're calm enough to go back in there?"

"I was perfectly calm," Jet said testily.

"Jet," she said simply.

"I was! Wasn't going to do a damned thing!"

She rolled her eyes. "Sure you weren't," she answered him, then the two of them went to the door, heading down into the building. "Have you ever thought about what you'll do, when this war is over?"

Jet's eyes dropped to the floor, and a tremor ran through him. "...no. I don't think I can afford to. 'Cause the minute I do, that's when I'll be distracted enough to make a big mistake."

She sighed. "Fair enough."

As they moved down, they passed the Tribesman, who gave them a nod in their passing. She gave a cautious one back, then whispered to Jet that he should go ahead. The whisper hinted at dire ramifications if he lost his temper. For all she stopped learning the finer points of Azuli etiquette at the age of eight, she still had some of the requisite skills. She then turned back to the Tribesman, who was busy installing a new hinge on his door.

Her fists went to her hips. "What?"

"You bring a lot of trouble with you," Qujeck noted, still staring at his door, for all the world not holding any meaningful conversation. "Good pick on the Princess, but that's going to bring blood. 'Specially once Long Feng smells it in the water."

"She's an old friend. I wasn't about to let her get killed, by thugs or assassins," Mai pointed out.

"Good. She's a powerful symbol. In some circles, she's an even more powerful one than the Avatar. And sadly, she's the kind of symbol which doesn't translate into a martyr, so you'd best be cautious," he finally turned a glance toward her. "Assassins?"

"They had to be," Mai said. "They were trained the way that makes me think they were intended to counter my kith. It's obvious in the way they fight. Constant pressure, fighting as a unified front, and always having somebody to capitalize on mistakes. Somebody wanted very powerfully for her to be dead. I think I know who."

"You should add one more to that list," Qujeck said idly. "If Long Feng can pin the Princess' murder on the Fire Lord, the West falls into chaos. War stops, and turns inward. If I were an evil man, or worse, a principled one, I'd be the first to put a knife into her; it certainly saves a few lives."

"You are a bit of a monster," Mai pointed out.

"I just see things as they are," Qujeck tested his hinge. It worked perfectly. So he took it apart and reinstalled it. "Ozai's already a military failure, an economic millstone, and a social turtleduck. Add in kinslayer, and you've got a revolution even without your esteemed Coordinator pricking at his back."

"You've put a lot of thought into this," Mai said.

"The worst thing for me would be Azula dying. Every day that Ozai is sending men against the walls is another day I can get closer to striking off the serpent's head," Qujeck said grimly. So he was doing the right thing for the wrong reasons? Well, it certainly beat the inverse. He gave her a glance. "Keep her safe. But most importantly, don't let them know about her. The only thing worse would be if he got ahold of... the Avatar or something."

"As if he even could," Mai said. She turned away , descending the floors to where they were staying. They were roughly in the middle, vertically, of the building, so the trip wasn't so arduous, either to the roof or to the ground floor, given they tended to have a break in the middle of it. The door to their abode was in better shape than most, in that it closed securely and locked without fail. She knocked eight times on the door, and after a moment, it swung out, and she skirted inside.

"So the Princess finally awakens," Mai said, crossing her arms before her. Azula, who looked like she'd been beaten to within an inch of her life, scowled at her.

"I must stop making a habit of being rescued. It's embarrassing," she said with her usual sing-song sarcasm ruined by a hoarse voice. She groaned, rubbing at her shoulder, where the purple bruise was at its deepest. It spread all the way past her ear, vanishing behind her hair. "Did you kill them?"

"Didn't have a chance to. Sorry to disappoint," Mai said flatly. "Too many witnesses, also, angry Tribesmen."

She scowled. "They'll get what's coming to them," she promised. She slowly swung her legs over the edge of the bed. "I need to get back to the house, before Uncle decides that he needs to come looking for me," Azula said, an odd inflection in her admittedly bafflingly accented voice. Then again, there was quite a bit which baffled Mai a little bit about her old friend.

"I thought you didn't like your uncle," Mai said.

"I don't. But he can be annoying in the worst and most unproductive ways when he doesn't get what he wants. That's also beside the point," Azula got to her feet, which was an impressive feat considering her state. It spoke to her resilience, if nothing else.

Azula was about to declare something, but the door opened with a thud, and a number of weapons instantly leapt to hand, as all turned to face the intruder. Then, all but the fists of a firebender were set aside, albeit with looks of consternation and annoyance, to which Bug at least had the decency to look somewhat contrite. "I just got word from How. He wants to talk to you. I figured you might want to bring him up to speed on the whole... you know... her... thing..."

All stared at Bug. "She's not the smart one of the group, is she?" Azula asked bitingly.

"Nope," Smellerbee noted.

"Not a chance," Jet confirmed. Longshot just gave a concise shake of his head.

"Then don't let me keep you waiting. Anything to keep Uncle in the dark," she said, contradicting what she'd just announced earlier, which caused Mai to give her a confused glance. Azula turned to her. "What?"

"Didn't you just say...?" Mai began, trying to point out Azula's rapid contradiction.

"Oh, and I should mention, he's only got a few minutes, and he'll be arriving pretty freakin' soon," Bug cut her off. "Come on, guys! This is the big time!"

"It will wait," Mai noted with a roll of her eyes. But it would be on her mind the duration.

---

"Will she live?" Hakoda asked, leaning over the girl.

"That's a stupid question. 'Will she live'," Old Borguk mocked. "Tunu is the finest... was the finest... healer in her generation. Only Yugoda could do better, and that was because of a seventy year gap in experience."

"I was asking a simple question, which I consider a part of the price I paid. What's the answer to it?" Hakoda asked testily. There was a reason why he tried to avoid dealing with Borguk Clan. Old Borguk turned an icy glare at the High Chief, but only paused a moment to tease at his white beard, before looking the teenager over more thoroughly.

"She's still out, but that's blood loss. The wounds are closed, so she won't lose any more, and she'll recover from the shock in a day or so. Maybe shorter if she's tough as a polarbear dog. Doesn't look it. She's a spindly thing," he gave a motion toward Tunu, and the girl turned her attention to the abdomen, which had received few injuries. The old man skinned back the girl's eyelid, showing a whole and furnished eyeball where once there had been a bloody void. "Eye's back, too. Tunu's good at her job."

Hakoda looked at it for a moment, confused. "Is it supposed to be... blue... like that?"

"That goes away," Old Borguk dismissed. "Everybody's eyes come in blue, then turn to their right color over a few weeks. Couldn't tell you why. I'm a fighter, not some nurse."

Hakoda nodded. So she'd be fine. That was a weight off. "Why weren't you there, when the Spikerim fell?" Hakoda asked, his curiosity finally getting the better of him.

"That's a pretty personal question," Old Borguk muttered.

"Do you have anything better to talk about?"

"Point," he grumbled, crossing his arms before him, glaring as though through the walls. "Arnook had lost his mind. But that meant big things for me and mine. We were the best warriors in the North. Our daughters, the best healers. I figured that a nice stretch of combat, a few months, would give me the clout to get Yakone a betrothal to the chief's daughter. Then, instead of a border skirmish, our fleets against a few raiding ships, they sent the entire navy, and pushed us all the way back to our citadel in Summavut. As for him... well, you can see for yourself," Old Borguk nodded briskly toward where the young man stared into the distance, his lips quivering slightly, as though he was quietly talking to himself, or else, constantly on the edge of weeping. Borguk shook his head. "That war was supposed to be my ticket to power. Instead, I sacrificed every child I had. A few of my grandchildren, too. And for what? We lose in the end. Our culture is gone, our people scattered to the winds, and the bastard firebenders own our sacred lands!"

"What was the turning point?" Hakoda asked.

Old Borguk chewed on his beard for a moment, as though torn between his gruff resistance to talk at all, and a very human need to tell somebody about something which was clearly and deeply bothering him. With a sigh, he let the human win. "I really don't know. It must have been a lot of things, and I can't point to one. Seeing my friends' children lost, either to death or blood-drunk despite it... Shakt, Urs' boy, he was a quiet child. Gentle. The war turned him savage. We kept losing ground. There wasn't any real hope. And the grandchildren, every time they came back, they were a little bit worse."

Hakoda could understand. He'd only seen the very end of the process, when it was already too late for most of them. Old Borguk, on the other hand, had watched the entire slide into madness, and seen the horrifying nature of the dead-souled soldiers kept alive long after their bodies ought lie down and freeze, their souls so strained by the trip to and from the Sea of Souls that it wasn't really in either place, anymore. And to see it happen slowly, to the people that he loved...

"Then... they started having the women fight," he said with an almost spit of disgust. That tone, though, held a lot of pain, beyond its revulsion. "Bad enough to see Yakone toughened up a bit. To see Tunu... It just wasn't right. She wasn't built for the Spikerim," a sigh, deep and regretful. "I don't think any of us were. Not really."

Hakoda nodded. He could understand the feeling. The Northern Water Tribesmen were a remarkably patriarchal lot, and tended to relegate women to the hearth and the home. To see them so swiflty levied against the clashing of armies would be akin to having them send their children to fight. And quite a few had to do that as well, for the extra psychological trauma. It was something so out of context for their society, that it alone was almost enough to break minds, something only done in the face of extinction. "Arsuk said the whole of Borguk Clan was here. Where are the rest of them. I thought you had almost a a dozen daughters."

Borguk shook his head, slowly.

"And what about your scores of grandchildren?" Hakoda asked. Borguk once again shook his head, slowly, his eyes pressed tight. Hakoda rested a hand on his fellow grieving father, another man who had lost children. And more.

"My great grandchildren are being raised by others. Tunu had one, my other daughters, five amongst them. Everything I know tells me that Tunu should be raising her sister's children, but... I can't help but think everything I know is wrong. Everything I know almost got us destroyed as a people. So yes, a few children get raised by already overtaxed mothers, living in poverty, because the one who the customs dictate isn't able to do it herself," Old Borguk gave a snarl, and swept a kettle off of the countertop in a show of rage. The crash of it caused both of his grandchildren to flinch violently. After a moment, and no other show of wrath, Tunu returned to carefully healing the girl, while Yakone returned to senseless muttering. "...to hell with the old customs. All they do is murder our children."

Hakoda could see where the old man was coming from. He'd personally hoped that the North would come to its senses about some of its more idiotic practices eventually. But not the way that it did. And not with a cost so high.

"You should ask him about your men," Zha Yu said, from where he was leaning quietly near the door. Borguk gave the earthbender a glance, then turned back to Hakoda.

"He's right. I should. You've been here longer than most. Have you heard anything about a group of South Water Tribesmen of late?" he asked. Then, his eyes rolled. "Of course, they'd probably be outside the Walls, most of the time, but..."

"I know of the ones you're talking about," Borguk cut him off. "Ogan's men. We spoke. He doesn't waste words. I like that. Who's he to you?"

"Technically, he's in charge of my 'army'," Hakoda answered. "I'm told I'm going to need his help."

This time, with a glance toward Zha Yu, who shrugged.

"Just order him. Unless things are as anarchic as Arnook said they were down South, he'll listen," Borguk dismissed.

"The problem is I don't know where he is," Arnook pointed out.

Borguk shrugged, scratching at his neck. "Laying low. Got into a bit of a fight with a couple of criminals, and wanted to duck the police for a while 'cause of the collateral damage they caused. Probably up in the Northern Lower Ring. They'll come back here, though. This is the only place they can get what they need."

"So it's a matter of waiting for them?" Hakoda asked. "That's better news than I expected."

"Well, aren't you a lucky one?" Borguk muttered sardonically.

Hakoda left the old man to his own devices, and stood beside Zha Yu. "Are you sure about what you heard? I mean, where did it even come from?"

"Like I said, I heard a voice in the thunder," Zha Yu gave a shrug. "There are certain... players... whom I've developed a rapport with over the years. This one is a bit more recent then most, but has been most helpful in some respects."

"You make it sound like you're talking to a spirit," Hakoda pointed out. Zha Yu's glance toward him, his brown eye sliding toward him just a bit, told him the truth of it. "Really? I thought you weren't a shaman."

"Not all spirits need a shaman around to speak," Zha Yu said. "Some are actually more dangerous if there is. I talked to Koh forty years ago in the Pillars of Heaven, and if there'd been a shaman within a hundred miles, I'd have lost my face for certain. Not everything believed is believed because it's true."

"Fair enough," Hakoda said. And he thought about his task, beyond just the girl. Namely, he started wondering how he was supposed to help her mother.

---

One would have expected it to be a more grandiose affair, seeing history return to life in this fashion. A technological marvel, thought lost for almost a millennium, not simply returned to life, but with its heart beating stronger than it had in its first life, its limbs and sinews tauter, its form grander. Had the need not been so pressing, he would have made a spectacle of it, chosen a day when the rain wasn't driving hard enough to sting the flesh, maybe even waiting until one where the sun broke through the clouds. The crowds would have numbered in the thousands, the tens of thousands. Innumerable eyes craned skyward as they beheld the absolute and unshakable truth that they were part of the greatest nation on this Earth.

Instead, in the small hours of the morning, the reborn technology of the Storm Kings rose into the sky, buffeted by the rain and the winds, its form only three-quarters finished. All of the grand ornamentation was missing. The dark red paint which was scheduled to coat the uppermost parts, a clear symbol that Fire had surpassed Air, was almost absent. Even the bomb-bays were currently non-functional. They didn't have to be, though. This was a task requiring speed, stealth, and discretion. A failure of any of those three spelled disaster.

The Fire Nation airship, the first of its kind, even its incomplete state, rose effortlessly through the storm, through the concealment of the clouds. And the Fire Lord stood at the prow, his eyes to the east. To his destination.

"You're being an idiot," Azula's taunting voice came from behind him. He clenched his fists, whole and wounded, as tightly as he could. Anything to dispel that despicable child. "Do you really think I'm that easy to ignore? I should have thought you smarter than this, Father."

"You are not here," Ozai said quietly, his face stoic, even as it was pelted by rain and occasional pebbles of hail.

"I'm always here. You can try to ignore me, but I am not going away," Azula said, mocking him. "You don't have nearly the strength to rid yourself of me. That's why you had to order your lackeys to do it for you. You're a coward."

"I did what needed to be done," Ozai stressed. "You were too weak! You were not ready!"

"So I deserved to die," Azula finished for him. He turned, and glared at her. The rain passed right through her, not dripping down her clothes as it did Ozai's. And still, he couldn't seem to evict the image, the sound of her from his mind. She shook her head with slow disdain. "No wonder everything you touch fails. You don't even know why I'm here."

Ozai turned back toward the east, as the clouds began to thin, rising as they were. And then, a part completely, rising up into a valley in the landscape of the storm.

And the sun was rising.

---

How's eyes grew wide the moment they all entered the room, which was itself a shack out in the Western Reaches far from the prying eyes of the Dai Li and their shadowed leader. He had to be careful. This city was a viper's nest. One, he'd expected. The other, once he'd recognized her, threw him for an understandable loop.

"Is that who I think it is?" How asked, holding his composure. The one he was more familiar with raised a thin brow at his question.

"I suppose that depends on who you think it is," she said, her raspy voice laced with sarcasm. How shot her a look, but then turned her attention back to the one in question.

"I had no idea you were in the city. It's a miracle that you haven't already been discovered," How said, giving the royal a truncated bow. She answered that with a smirk. Not one of malevolence, but rather, a self-satisfied expression, that one was where one ought be. He stepped away from his chair, and she took it without incident. How glanced to the scion of Loyo Lah with query plain his his expression.

"Somebody tried to assassinate her," the noble said without any buildup. It was an admirable trait, more than likely borne of a desire to leave her people's damnable circuitousness behind. It worked to his benefit.

"Someone?" How asked. His thoughts turned instantly to the Grand Secretariat. "We can't have that. You need to be safe if your part in this is to be fulfilled. And your part is critical, make no mistake," How maintained.

"Good to know I'm out of the limelight," the other noble gave a shrug.

"And what exactly is this plan of yours?" the Fire Nation's Princess asked, her accented tones almost over-sweet. But he ignored it. She would see the benefit of this plan soon enough that she would quell any thoughts of self-defensive betrayal.

"The plan is to install a new Fire Lord on the Burning Throne," he summarized. Her brows rose at that. "Ambitious, I know, but I can think of no other way to prevent the slow devastation which that man will wrought upon us."

"You do realize the person you're talking about 'replacing' is my father," the Princess pointed out, starting to inspect her nails. They were broken and some of them on her left hand had outright fallen out.

"Given the things he's done to you over the years, I can only imagine the sense of relief there would be in seeing him off the Burning Throne," How said, opening up a map and unfurling it. It was a rudimentary map of the Bay of Tenko, within which the capital of Caldera City resided. "All you need to do is be there when the gates fall, and this terror will end, and you will be able to end this war before any more blood is shed."

"And that's all you need from me?" the princess asked.

How nodded, slowly. "I understand that you might feel a sense of trepidation about this. The things he did to you over the years were harsh to the point of cruelty. Everybody knows what a monster that man is, to treat his own ailing daughter so poorly. There are many who will see you as a new dawn for the Fire Nation. Honestly, I am one of them. Doubly so, now that Prince Zuko has defected."

"What."

How looked up from the map, to see Azula a bit agape at that news. The other noble, too, had a look of confusion and disbelief on her otherwise well controlled features. "Indeed. It's news well concealed but I have seen it with my very eyes. The Fire Lord's son, departing in the company of the Avatar. I would've never thought I'd see the day."

"That's impossible," the Princess stated.

"I thought you would be more happy. That means that we won't have to supplant your brother as well," How counseled.

She just shook her head, a baffled expression on her face. "...how? Why?" she asked, in her own tongue. Then a few more words, which he was unable to translate, but were he able to, he would have known to be 'and why so soon? What has changed?'. With a fresh shake, she focused on him more clearly. "That is irrelevant. What is your plan?"

"The plan is simple. We keep you safe, first of all. I know some people in the city who can keep an eye on you inconspicuously, something my own men could not. Then, I'll have to find a way to recover the Dragon."

"I doubt my Uncle would be willing to help you in this," the Princess said with a roll of golden eyes.

"Why would I recruit the Dragon of the West. I was speaking of the Dragon of the East."

"...who?"

"The woman who beat your Uncle at the walls," the other noble said, a look of concern flitting onto her features for a moment. Then, banished behind a mask of boredom and disinterest. Azula flinched slightly, and then nodded.

"Right. Her. Why is she so important?" the Princess asked. "And why can't you reach her?"

"She's important because she's one of the better military minds out there. And we can't reach her, because we're fairly sure that the Cultural Authority got its hands on her before I knew she was in the city."

"Really?" the Princess asked, a smirk growing on her face.

"Yes. We'd only come to this conclusion in the last day or so; I've not even had a chance to inform her daughter of it, yet," he said. He also made a note to head to speak with her as soon as possible. This was the sort of thing which the girl would no doubt want to be a part of. However little that worked to her safety or self-interest.

"I think I might be of some help in that," the girl said, that smirk growing mildly malevolent, which caused How a moment's pause. But only a moment's.

"Appreciated, but unnecessary. We need you safe for when the time is right," he coached. He then turned to the other noble, who was standing silently next to the Princess, the wild-haired peasant she was associated with close at hand. "And for you, thank you for bringing this to my attention. As a wise woman once said, you've made a trifle of a tragedy. And don't fear that I forget my promises. Even if you aren't the lynchpin of justice against the man who killed your family, I will ensure you are there to witness it."

"Good," she said simply.

It was fortunate that the General wasn't privy to Azula's thoughts, for they would have outright terrified him. Because for all the difficulties in concentration she'd suffered of late, a plan was forming in her devious little brain. She would 'help', these Easterners with their little game, until the time came for them to attempt their glorious invasion of her homeland. At which point, from the inside, she would burst them like a blood-sausage, and step onto black sands with these scum floating dead in the water behind her, her honor strong, and her head held high, and all of her enemies dealt with at once.

There would be no Day of Black Sun when she was done with them. And the Fire Nation would stand tall, forever.

And a part of her – not even the part which was in open rebellion against her, even – couldn't help but wonder if she was pointing herself at the right goal.

---

Earlier:

She didn't know how long she'd been unconscious. Long enough that her lips had started to puff up, her tongue feeling like it was a size too big for her mouth, and her remaining eye puff almost closed. She could see only a sliver of the world. And she could hear little, over the roaring in her ears. She slowly picked herself up, and when she did, she felt cloth pulling at her wounds. Somebody had tied bandages around them while she was under. But she didn't know who.

Then, like a brick to the head from a hateful Si Wongi, she remembered. Ashan. He was holding her up as she fled. Toward the tramway. Towards escape.

She felt so weak, so light-headed, as she got her feet under her. She glanced around, trying to figure out where she was. The buildings looked good, well kept. It must have taken a miracle for him to get her past the walls of the Middle Ring. She couldn't even conceive of how he did. Then again, she couldn't conceive of how to make a sandwich at the moment, so it was likely a function of a blow to the head and critically low levels of blood.

"Are you there, Ashan?" her own voice sounded pitiful and weak, to her numbed ears. Much of her skin felt numb. "Ashan?"

Silence, but for the roaring of her ears. She pulled the blanket which was bound 'round her closer, and started to walk. She had only to exit the darkened alley, and spot the road-signs – with her single remaining eye – to take a gasp of shock. So close. He'd brought them only a few blocks from home. She turned, ignoring the people who eyed her suspiciously, trying to see where he'd gone. There was no blood coming out of the alley. No sign of him.

She needed help. That was an overwhelming, biological imperative. Something her body overrode her brain and screamed into her ears. So she walked. Toward home. Toward the waterbender who could save her life. If she wanted to. Nila quietly hoped she wanted to. She quietly hoped that for once in her life, Nila hadn't burned a bridge she needed to cross before she crossed it. She walked, and she grew weaker with every step.

Flits of memories drifted up toward her, as she walked.

"Nila, what are you doing in there?" Mother's voice called to her. "You have to finish your practices!"

"I hate my practices; they are stupid and brutish!" Nila shouted down from her room, where she was slowly assembling the first firearm she had ever constructed in her life. Her hair had already been shaved off at that point, so she had nothing drooping down in front of her eyes, hunched over as she was before her device.

There was a tromping up the stairs, as Mother made her presence known in the way she only ever did with family; loudly. When the sounds of footfalls reached the other side of the door, there was a pause. Nila didn't imagine why, so couldn't know what went through her mother's mind in that instant. But a moment after that, the door swung open, showing Mother's annoyed expression.

"Would you mind explaining this to me?" Mother's question made it clear that 'no' was not an answer.

"I am doing something ten thousand times more worthy than throwing plates at straw-men," Nila said, turning her back on her first firearm, almost sheltering it defensively.

"You would turn your back on what I have to teach you?" Mother asked, an edge of annoyance clear in her tones.

"I am no fighter! I have no wish to be! This, this," she grasped her firearm and held it before her, "this is the future of technology. This is my future. You can take your sword and your bow; in the future, they will be made obsolete by such as this!"

"You speak highly of trinkets, daughter," Mother said. She tilted her head. "So you have no desire to see the world across the draw of a bow?"

"I would like to think myself less brutish than that," Nila muttered.

"No less brutish, but perhaps less stupid," Mother pointed out. She stared at her daughter. Her daughter stared back. Sharif, still of his proper mind at that point, looked upon both with nervousness at the tension. "Very well. If you will be no warrior, then I shall not waste time in teaching it. See that your current path takes you farther than your imagination deigns. Much has been lost to idle dreams."

"Anybody who doesn't see what I'm creating has worth...

"Is an idiot," Nila muttered across broken, puffy lips, causing a fresh taste of copper in her mouth as the wounds were pulled open. They weren't the only ones. As she walked, the bandages, inexpertly bound, snagged on things she bumped against, unable to hold her course. Slowly, the wounds, held shut, opened once more, staining the blanket over her shoulders and hooding her head and making it slowly turn black.

It was less than memories which flitted to her, next. Just flashes of words. A sensation of an arm around her waist, supporting her weight. A smell. The sound of panicking breathing.

"Please, you have to help her..."

Nila walked, and she walked alone.

"I'm sorry, Nila. I don't think I can go on..."

Nila walked, and she walked alone.

"Ha! Grandfather would be ashamed. You've finally turned me into a criminal, Nila..."

Nila walked, and home was so close. Just one kip through an alleyway, a few back-doors away. The blanket had been lost somewhere, sliding out of numbed fingers, leaving her standing in rags, dripping blood from reopened wounds into a trail marking her passage. She stumbled, listed, and righted herself.

"...I might never get to say it again... but I love you, Nila... I have for so long..."

Her eyes rolled up into her head, and she collapsed into the alley, so close to safety. So close, and yet so far. And nothing but nightmares to greet her.

---

Remember how I said that I torture my characters? Yeah... If you're not at least a little bit of a sadist, there's no way you can produce a decent narrative. Unless you ply your trade in children's literature, but I digress.

Some have been wondering 'what Azula's frigging problem is'. The problem is that she's got three people crammed inside one brain. And that's not something which is supposed to happen. Needless to say, there tend to be side-effects to that sort of thing. Dire side effects. And as for Malu... well, she's got the bigger bad living inside her skin. That doesn't end well. Oddly, one of those two conditions will be sorted out by the end of this 'season', although in the worst possible way.

Of course, at this point, the most pressing question is... where is Aang during all of this?

Expect a bit of a delay to the next chapter. Family things have come up. Should be dealt with by the end of the month, but that's going to slow me down regardless.