There was the thundering of hooves. Mud flicking up on their heels. The screeches of the horses rang hollow in the hazy, faltering breath of dawn. The cloak of the rider billowed in the wind. It reminded him of tendrils of smoke from the red mouth of a whore in a dank bar with stuttering old music.

Tahno was staring death in the face and it excited him.

The white horse reared up, a part of him; a distant part of him shrank away in fear.

Beads of cold sweat tricked down his face. The masked man reached for him. Marked him.

Left him for worse than dead.

A non-bender.

When the other children laughed at him, pushed him down and called him "swamp boy" the rain became daggers of ice.

Tiny, beautiful globules of blood and then a steady stream washed away and lost in the gutters. That sent them running back to their mothers. Home had never smelled so sweet. Dinner had never tasted so good. Not all mothers got their sons back and no one ever bothered him again.

He deserved this.

"Tahno," Korra said, again-louder.

"Korra," His voice was smooth. Even with her clear water blue eyes piercing him. There were flecks of pity in them. Even with him being more thankful than he had ever been to wake up and not be alone.

He had become "Tahno" to her and her "Korra" to him in the bat of an eyelash.

They were not the same children playing at nicknames and cracking helmets, hoping to infect the other's every thought. They were playing a much more dangerous game where injuries ran hotter and redder; pushing under their damaged skin into something she no longer knew how to heal. She could only heal what was on the surface.

"You were having—" She contemplated stopping there. "A bad dream."

"Was it about Amon?"

"No."

She thought he was lying. She always thought he was lying.

"How long have you been awake?" How long have you been watching me? Was what he meant. It was creepy…and sweet. And sweet was not meant for him.

Korra shrugged. "Not long." She laid her head back down on the pillow so close to him. He captured her mouth. She still tasted like cock and he tasted like every inch of her. He had hurried her out of her clothes, who knew where they were—out in the cold hallway, over a lamp neither of them had bothered to turn off—and kissed her hungrily.

The dream was Korra.

Tahno woke grudgingly from her embrace.

His mind was too loud to keep the fantasy of having her from fading from his thoughts, his skin.

It was okay.

It was for her.

Tahno felt what he supposed most people felt—that raw connection to another human being for the first and last time.

"Tahno," She choked.

"Uh-vatar," He laughed softly, spitting blood onto his chin.

"Why did you go after him?" She felt nothing for him and yet her eyes were welling up. She was the Avatar, no one was supposed to get hurt because of her, but everyone did.

"Did I get him?"

"Yeah, you got him."

You're a horrible liar.

She smiled. She had a comforting smile.

Nothing was something—they just felt it a little too late.