"Amazing... Able to prop an arrow. Shoot it. Then... pin the Avatar with only his skin cut. Let me be the first to say you are damned impressive."

Roan sat hunched over a blacktop bar. He'd nodded briefly to assuade the old man but his mind was elsewhere.

Was it right of him to shoot the Avatar? He wasn't sure anymore.

He sighed. Eyes downcast. Grin gone.

He must have gone long without his own smile to not know how to fake one. He remembered what Aya had said. About him not being happy. About him being anything but happy. She was right. Up until now he had been content, and even glowing with confidence since his Humanity returned. But bleeding another with his own two hands marked him as savage and not as a gentleman, Aang's blood proved him so; he remembered then how unhappy he truly was. It felt like a cruel wet blanket was caped over him as the day before played on repeat.

Another swig of Mead ran down his throat.

...Was it depression?

Roan looked into the fire; the foundation comprising of soot-touched stone.

The flames danced unduly, brazing his cheek.

Depression? No, no that wasn't.. erm, not quite.

...Maybe discontent was a lingering symptom of the Dark Sign… he wondered. Just like the voice of many Undead being mute was not uncommon, rather, it was the standard.

Mute… That brought him back...

Roan craved to speak way back when and now that he could he found he did not have much to say. Sure he had a lot to think about. Most did - he was just one to keep it to himself.

On the contrary, months after coming to the Fire Nation he'd been stranded on teaching, unable to speak quickly enough for the lesson times Ozai had chosen for him, out of necessity he had tracked down a very basic book on vocal cords from the Palace's library.

For what seemed near two weeks of unorthodox self-instruction Roan was no closer to his goal.

Then, without another moment, he spoke, shocking the librarian staff. No one knew how it happened and Roan didn't care. Years of being mute were gone and he could express himself.

"Gwyn's bolt, Seathe's breath, Nito's blade, Izalith's burn," he had recited. For what reason he hadn't the slightest clue.

Roan tried to grin overtop his drink. Swaying a cheek for even a wittled grin, he strained, awkwardly raising his cheeks to simulate a smile; he must've looked like a man with the grin of a jackal.

Wrong, it was all wrong. Despite knowing that was a happy memory no smile shown.

Rather than grinning he felt like he was displaying his fangs.

Unless it was for something real, like Aya. There was no way he could smile, he thought.

He sipped his mead. No longer drinking for taste - he drank to forget, guessing that was how alcoholics started.

"...Truly, the ability it must have taken! Oh! Goodness me! Would you lend me your ear another time? Eve has set and I really do need to get back."

Roan nodded, saying his farewell.

The man left.

He let a relaxing sigh loosen his body as he slumped in his seat, honey eyed from his drink though not altogether drunk. A buzz droned in his head. Currently, he was at a bar far removed from town. It was poorly lit with a single chandelier and fireplace. The chandelier had an ornate base with nature designs. Four rods extended out like branches, at the end hand statues were grasping four war fans, candles lit dimly inside. Dust covered the top half of the chandelier and the fire was low and born from the flame were four logs crisped black with soot piling like ant hills within the kiln of wood..

Many tables took the center of the tavern with a balcony overtop in a square. People of all shapes and sizes, men and women alike, grogged and belched in their seats. Mugs in hand and ale in belly just the way they liked it.

At the moment Roan wished he had stayed at the inn where Aya and the children were, thinking aimlessly was not doing him well for his psyche or his health.

"Would a patron be so thoughtful as to let a few coins go to waste on a drink he didn't gander a sip, sir?

He regarded the bartender lightly. Tipping his glass so the bartender could see.

Men laughed and stomped their boots.

He looked towards the fire blazing in the chimney briefly before switching to the window. "How long until morning arrives?"

The bartender wrinkled his scraggly beard as he looked to one of the few windows. The moon showed lightly. He pet his beard.

"Can't tell just by lookin'. Best bet, probably, 4 more hours 'till sunrise? Wouldn't be a bad idea to drink what you've got there and get squattin' back home."

Roan looked into the mug, "Perhaps." He chuckled, a little.

The bartender hummed lowly in agreement.

The door chime clanged.

Four wanderers ambled in, darkly hooded, and dressed in trench coats. Customers rattled at their sight. Their laughs died and the room's mood shattered which seemed to dim the light oddly.

Silence.

The customers glared. Whoever they were the shadows clinging to them sent chills down Roan's forearms, obviously he was alone with that feeling, goosebumps travelled up and down his arms.

"Well, well, lookie here," the tall one whispered to the short one.

No one knew who they were looking at but Roan have an idea.

Roan twisted in his seat and stared, acting the part of some liquored up bastard way past his limit.

One hand on his mug he gulped the rest of his mead dry and gently set it to the bartender while the wanderers disappeared to the second floor.

Above, floorboards creaked.

Remembering a few hours ago, he had received looks of question, malice some of them when he entered, this time was no different.

It was fortunate that after a while with his quiet they turned their predatorial appetite back to each other or their drink.

When the newcomers vanished everyone sat back and sighed in their stupor. Grungy laughs tickled Roan's ear spoiling how cowardly the wanderers were for backing down. This was either a case of his nerves pandering him for drinking, which was likely - he didn't drink much - or a set of eyes were.

Up above on the second floor the shortest one stared down on him from across the balcony.

Roan decided then to do away with chances and leave.

Collecting his gear and paying for his drink (a man by the name of Shin quickly downed what was rest) he swiftly departed.

When the door clicked shut, the floorboards creaked.

Roan had been walking down a dirt trail that was hugged in a ravine. They were mountainous - wind-carved, reducing him to the size of a boulder.

Beams of light were spotted overhead and then minutes and minutes again the lights flickered like an aurora. Beneath them the dark was palpable.

Another mile would be Kiyoshi. Though another few feet and the group who followed him would attack.

Or so he thought.

It seemed the happy bunch from the bar didn't like how he stared. It was only a hundred yards from the bar when Roan noticed his followers.

He'd just assumed they were the wanderers.

Roan barred his fear of the dark and the shaking that followed.

Silence. The wind whistled.

He walked some more, trying to ignore the cockroaches scuttling around.

The trail steepened. A breeze swept through the pathway, exposing him and making him feel raw. Every step equalled another moment he expected the group to attack. Ever since he knew they were following they had neared him and neared him. As silent and as dark as their surroundings, becoming nothing more than shades in the void.

Off in the distance lights blazed like still fireflies.

Kiyoshi, he quickened his pace.

Roan squinted; hoping to get a better look. He was half tempted to take out his binoculars and watch for the Kiyoshi Warriors.

Snap! A twig broke.

Without a thought, Roan knocked an arrow to his sights and turned on heel, aiming towards the dark. Within were four people twenty yards away in a depressively narrow corridor.

An easy shot, he concluded.

He breathed deep. Concentration mattered most. In his time this situation was in his favor, however it would not be easy.

No help from the Kiyoshi Warriors.

"Before I shoot." He said, " How many are you? Speak with haste!"

"Three men and one woman," the shortest answered. He assumed this person was the woman.

Buying time was the best option he had. He just hoped from the perspective of the Kiyoshi warriors that they could see something he did not after he exited, which wasn't for another fifteen yards. A film of blue hued light marked the exit and then a descending trail to the entrance and a cliff on the left.

"One woman. Three men," Roan recited. "What is your business? Prowling in the dark after an armed Earth-Bender. Playing with fate?"

"Earth-Bender?" The tall one said. "You hear the lousy lice? He says he's an Earth-Bender! Ha! What would an Earth-Bender be doing with weapons like those at night! You mongrel, fool!"

"Takini, shut him up before I have to," the woman said.

Whoever Takini was he did his work well because the blabbermouth tied his tongue.

Roan glimpsed towards the exit, into the moonlight.

Ten yards away. He cursed.

"Now," the woman combusted fire in her palm, bringing light to her eyes. Her face shown, glowing amber. Her mask shoved down to her neck like a scarf. She looked cunning like a fox. Black hair, like the abyss. Almost excessively beautiful. Streaks of red were dashed under her eyes. These seemed to be smeared blood strips. "Wise or not… we have the cards. You are not any Earth-Bender. Nor a bender at all."

Roan shut his mouth and backed slowly. Gritting his teeth, he wished he'd grabbed his pyromancy first. Any sudden movement would trigger the fight.

"Why so scared? I am only a lonely Bender amongst many others," the woman teased.

She stepped forward, an unsettling certainty amidst her eyes. The grass shuffled.

"A man who cannot die is a problem and upsets the balance. Please understand. We send our condolences and support the Avatar." Her pleasured smirk didn't help him 'understand' at all.

Without another word her flame extinguished. Dark engulfed her as she darted forward, shade outlined her body, blurring a fine line between visible and invisible, on the other hand appearing as solid on the trail below.

Roan burst back, bow primed, into silvery moonlight. Have to get away! He dug his foot to the ground, crouched low, and fired. He had enough space to get one, maybe two arrows off before the fire lady was on him.

Unluckily, the arrow whistled, missing the woman, it met its mark on another and a shadow plummeted, gasping as its chest convulsed. Roan cursed. He knew he'd missed the moment the figure still breathed. He readied the bow again. Though this time instead of aiming he kept the bow lax and the arrow loose as he backstepped again and again, determined to set some distance between himself and the woman.

When the moonlight bathed the remaining three, Roan glared as hard as he could..

His pursuers stopped. All but the woman's masks were on.

Damn.

Since long before, he could not remember a time when his frustration had reached this he tried to keep calm.

"Why are you after me?"

He failed. Growling like a cornered wolf his throat bristled as his finger stroked the string of his bow.

The woman snarled, trying to close the gap. "What do you think this is? Some stupid bedtime story Mummy used to tell? Shut up and die!" she screamed.

Worth a try.

A second later he snapped off two more arrows.

Both met their mark.

Incapacitated, two men crumpled to the floor while dust flushed from underneath. No gasps or moans. Just silence.

The way it should have been.

The woman paced alone, agonizing rage beset her face. And Roan, bow prepped and ready for another shot took aim...

And fired at the village.

Off in the distance Roan heard a surprised wail and winced. He hoped he hadn't hit her. Roan's plan was to alert the Kiyoshi Warriors to alarm the village.

It wasn't a perfect plan by any means. Come into range and fire and then hope someone comes to his aid - though, it was all he had.

"Don't you dare look away from me!" the woman roared. She dashed behind him, faster and faster like a bird.

Daggers willed by fire whizzed past his face as he was met with one hell of an angry woman flipping over him. Landing, she launched from below, attempting to slice him open while he dropped his bow and met her blades with his. She sunk one blade deep in his shoulder while he pummeled her stomach with his guard.

Silence.

Roan stared stoneface as the woman's expression melted from anger to breathless shock. She gasped for breath. The color drained from her cheeks. Disappointment crossed her face. Then, her body crumpled.

As he supported her, he knew to look away from his wound to lessen the pain. Yet, he felt his consciousness wane. It burned like sand was being crushed in by jagged knives.

He heaved as his vision faded and what strength left in his body vanished. He collapsed. The woman sprawled two feet away.

He gasped and reached out. Her face! Show him her face! His body swerved, outraged he would move, he laid there, eyes set unto the setting moon; her face, to it's finest detail, remained a mystery. Maybe it was adrenaline from the fight but her face was already a faded image passing by.

Another opportunity wouldn't come like this again.

He groaned painfully. She would be a familiar face in a mob and nothing more...

Fuck, that was bad. His head throbbed.

Black.

Roan awoke the coming morning. The woman gone. No name. No evidence she even existed. No one had come to the rescue.

What happened, happened too quick. Too fast of a situation to analyze. He barely remembered the likeness of her profile. Black hair and a face like a fox. Though one thing he did remember was her eyes.

So keen and acute, they pierced into him.

Roan's vision stirred. From the looks of things he was back at the inn sprawled atop his bed. At one corner of the room were strips of gauze, weapons and his armor; at the other corner were the supplies given to him by Ursa, which at the moment consisted of no more than his usual pouch he carried and a bundle of repurposed brush for camouflage.

Whoever found him did not seem to fiddle with his belongings. Though at a closer glance the camouflage was a bit torn and would need to be weaved again. Scuffs from the fight marred his armor, torn at the shoulder, it mired in blood.

Roan grimaced at that.

He sighed. At least he would have something to do. Cleaning and such.

Aya's voice woke him fully. Stating how she was going on an errand, before her voice faded.

Gritting his teeth, he propped himself against the wall.

Sweatdrops dotted his forehead.

...Who was that woman he'd encountered? Roan massaged around the wound, feeling bitterly sore. She knew about his undying. Stuff like that was confidential information only the royal family knew. By extension the royal staff.

An assassin? There was a possibility. Though her organization supported the Avatar, knew of his condition, and said he upset the balance. Something he'd heard a lot of in stories.

"Balance", they told.

"Teacher! Avatar Aang is asking to see you," Ying announced. She slitted the door open, allowing the stale air an escape alongside some scents like sweat and alcohol which shot into Ying's nose, watering her eyes.

Ying had a half mind to gag and make a show of it like she usually would. She peaked in.

Her chest jolted. She decided not to.

First on her mind was why? Then, who? Then, where...? Down by her feet the sound of tapping could be heard. She tapped to settle her nerves while her teeth clenched.

Nausea from the wound set in: suddenly, Roan felt like vomiting.

"Is there something you wish to talk about, Ying?" He managed.

He'd noticed her?

"No, sir... Hu, The Avatar is here."

"Let him in."

"...Yes sir."

She'd already peered once into the room, the state of her teacher welled fire in her chest. She frowned.

...Maybe she would investigate...

Roan sighed as Ying shuffled away, strangely. Aya was the one who found him, he guessed. Morning walks were something of a hobby for her so it wouldn't be too farfetched to believe she found him. Then, naturally she must've let the others know… Roan wondered mindlessly, entering his own world of thoughts.

The door opened.

"What are you doing here?"

Roan recoiled, tossing him out of his thoughts.

Across from him was Aang. The boy kneeled with four arrows in hand; partly splayed feathers and chipped arrowheads suggested they were his, though he had no doubts; one was tinged scarlet. Apart from the anger in the boys eyes he looked just like he described him before. Aang was a boy; scrawny with the face of a wistful teenager. He wore an orange sash and white monk clothing.

Monk or not the boy was skin and bone.

That bothered him more than it should have. Annoyingly enough though he needed to keep quiet and answer succinctly.

Moreover, Aang didn't look bothered by the smell. That was a good sign.

"My team and I were tracking you." Roan answered, "We intend to do you and your friends services."

"Protecting you is one service we will provide."

Aang scratched his head and laid the arrows down. Uncertainty high in his eyes.

"So you were tracking me to help me?" Aang pointed towards the arrows. Namely, the red crusted arrowhead. Roan decided against commenting. He ignored that topic.

"We also can provide for food. My students are skilled hunters and scavengers, pick your pallet, vegetarian or meat-glutton - I am a fair cook."

Ok, selling himself was right up there on the list of things to do. Getting them closer to being trusted and even better, wanted.

Aang watched on skeptically yet his eyebrows were hinged up slightly, catching his interest.

"My students told of your disappearance which spanned a hundred years, and as such, Avatar," Aang cringed, "the likes of many men would have your head. Be it clubs or Bending, allies like your friends and my team may be the only friends you have though that would be a sorry sight."

Roan charged Aang with a calculated stare while Aang looked on frowning in question, brows squinched together in thought, not absolutely sold.

"I don't understand," Aang frowned, looking down. His posture was strict. "Who would want to hurt the Avatar?"

Was that supposed to be a joke? He stared at the boy.

Nope. Mischief clouded by confusion in Aang's eyes, tensed and yet still relaxed, Aang was not joking. Even the kids hands jittered a little though Roan guessed that had to do with something outside. Girls, most likely.

That annoyed him a little. Just to prove his point some girls were asking where their Avatar was just in earshot like that of a mosquito.

Roan felt like sighing but his shoulder throbbed.

"Ignorance only harms; blissful as you may be now, you won't be later. Many people will want to hurt you, Aang. Did you think your predecessor,"

Who was it?

He hummed to himself.

"...Avatar... Roku did not have enemies?"

"What are you saying...? Avatar Roku had enemies. But I'm supposed to be careful of everyone all the time? You know that's impossible, right?"

Roan was silent for a while. Unwilling to grant a word. An awkward pressure built around the Avatar though Roan did not feel the same. His eye glinted.

Whenever a situation arose like this, Roan always tendered to silence, to let his opposite think. So that's where they were. Sitting in a white room with simplistic design of green and white. His armor scattered like leaves to his right and a window to Roan's back nearly half the room's length and half the room's height, showing Kiyoshi's descending slope with Avatar Kiyoshi at the Town's base.

At the base was a slab of stones set together to support the statue. Around the valley were trees steadily whispering in the winds.

Minutes passed like this and Aang obviously only felt more awkward as time went. Gears in his head turned. One way or another the Avatar was thinking about it. That was good.

Maybe he needed one last thing to think about.

"We could teach you."

"Huh?" Aang's head tipped. "I don't need to learn a bow."

"Perhaps not. But I am not talking about a bow.."

After another jarring moment Aang' friend barged in.

Throwing open the door, collapsing, hands on knees, Katara breathed heavily after pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. She glared at Roan who was peering with a glimpse of humor.

...Maybe he was sadistic?

"What's all this about?"

Roan's brow rose in question? Though the humor refused to leave. He was more entertained by her concern than her intrusion, really. He somewhat expected one of those girls to be Katara although certainly her voice sounded more mature. Teenage-y but mature, or at least, more mature than the ten year olds hanging around Aang.

"Nothing you need to be concerned with, Miss Katara. Aang and I, we were discussing what happened before, and I... was apologizing. Forgive me."

He bowed his head long enough to stun Katara. Obviously she didn't believe him from the way her brows pinched and her cheeks flushed. His voice maybe? Deep as it was he couldn't imagine that being the reason… a deep voice didn't mean anger.

He stared to his lap; wondering if that really was it. He hoped it wasn't. Aya liked his voice.

A blush streaked across her cheeks. Her eyes swirled with anger.

"C'mon Aang, let's go! We're not talking to this jerk!"

Katara reigned Aang up by the hand and made for the door with long, angry steps. Indignance in the way she moved. Confusion and surprise plastered onto Aang's face as he was taken away.

Xing pulled along Azula by the scruff of her forearm down the hall. Fixtures fashioned to be dragons lit the hallways. Black in color the candles were held in their mouths as if blasting a cone of fire. His room was a straight passage from his students in the scheme of the hall.

Then, Azula hadn't noticed Katara's approach until she was shoved aside. Quelaag's Fury Sword clattered to the floor.

Murder spelled in Azula's eyes.

No one disgraced her blade.

"Hey!" She snarled, "Water tribe!"

"Azula."

Before she chased, Azula turned. Startled eyes absorbed the bandages, Xing too gaped in surprise. He had the same market of emotions as Azula. Oddly enough her and Xing's stare made Roan feel self-conscious and made him want to shut the door which, in the end, probably wouldn't help anything. He decided not to.

Whipping her head back to the girl, Azula growled fire, a jet of burning hot flame rushed to the floorboards which scorched them black. Within her rage swathed face an old sinister look begged to be unlocked. Roan knew that face. Memories flashed like flickering lights when she would throw deadly balls of fire when her list of wants was not met, or more merciless, when she wanted to hurt someone.

"Azula!" He coughed, yacking into his arm.

Roan might have stopped Aang himself if his health was better.

But now, his priority was Azula.

Before too long, Azula curbed her frustration. Switching between Katara and Aang's backs and Roan's stormy glare she kneeled next to him with Xing on his right.

She'd made her decision.

Slam! A level below a door closed.

Aang and Katara were gone. He hoped they hadn't seen Azula firebend. The results could've been disastrous.

Roan's posture slumped - relief written in his eyes.

Aang was still being guided by Katara as he thought about what Roan had said. Although he wasn't against having Roan's group come with them he had to wonder…

He blinked, remembering, just as the monks said: "Forgiveness and hope."

To forgive an accident and to hope for a better future, light glinted in his eye as Katara stopped and a sense of realization hit him. The sun beat down on him and Katara's forehead was dotted with sweat as she slid off her heavy skinned coat. Underneath was her blue bending outfit with a blue medallion necklace hung around her neck.

Upset, she looked at him.

"Aang! I came as soon as I knew where you were going! Why would you go to their room? That's asking to be shot, again…" Hands on her hips, Katara glared. "Trying to impress those girls you've been parading around with all day?"

The wind rustled. Without his notice, Katara had dragged them to the back of one of the houses next to Town Hall. Dispirited trees over hung the house, branches like sharpened bone. To either side games blooming trees.

"I mean... Seriously?"

He interrupted her rant as he gulped , meeting her eye to eye, "Yesterday was an accident," he explained.

From Katara's crossed arms he took it she didn't believe him.

"I don't know for sure… He didn't say exactly what it was but he said they'd been tracking us."

After a minute explanation Katara remained silent. Unsure what to do. Aang tapped Katara on her shoulder.

Here voice cracked. "I'm not so sure, Aang. They went a little far to get your attention."

"I know. If that happens again we'll deal with it then. Think about it… protection… food… his name, uh, I can't remember but he offered things we could really use! ...Think about it?"

Although Katara didn't like it, she nodded.

"Let's go and see what Sokka thinks."

"But ground rules first… Understand?"

Aang huffed. "Alright…"

However, before Katara could talk, both of them flinched as Aya's stare chilled their spines. They circled around until they saw her. Half her body was hidden behind the house corner, her head tipping out like a child. Katara felt uneasy. Aang, was curious.

Chasing right along was a little grin on Aya's face. She strolled up to them casually and grinned a little more until she entered under the shade of the tree.

"Indeed ground rules are needed, no?"

As gentle as can be she crossed her arms while Katara's eyes widened. Shock then anger showed, until Aya motioned her down with a hand.

"We ride along with you on your bison. Obviously, girls sleep on one side and guys on the other. My husband and I are the exception..."

This next part she switched from side to side, checking for any spy's.

"Provided you understand we are friendly… Please excuse the mishap yesterday. We have firebenders with us who can teach Aang a safe method of FireBending if what I've heard is correct... That being said: Aang doesn't know FireBending. To change that I have two of the Fire Nation's best willing to teach FireBending just as well as any other form of combat you would like to learn."

Sales pitch 101, offer yourself 100% and you're guaranteed to at least catch a customer's interest. She learned that from before her time as a servant when she was an Advertising Agent on Ember Island.

Confidence filled her at Aang's expression brightening. "Alright! Sounds fair to me!"

See?

Katara sighed. She shook her head.

"Then it's settled? We will fly with you?" Aya questioned.

The only thing Katara had to say was to watch herself and to make sure to keep a clear understanding that FireBenders wouldn't be trusted so quickly. And although Aang was trusting, Aya understood Katara surely wouldn't be. It would have been strange for her to not wonder where their origins were, as well as where their true allegiance lie, besides with the Avatar...

So, yes! That was good news. Her grin widened as she watched the two walk to the dojo after leaving the shade of the house.

She watched as two trails split from one and they took the left one to the top of a hill in where a rigid building looked towards them. Pine trees encompassed the dojo, she noticed.

But then…

She turned and looked up the other path. A dark ravine.

Her grin vanished, replaced by a somber stare to a mess of chopped grass. Little flower petals drifted away. Ladybugs nipped at the grass.

Her husband was attacked…

And not just by any schmuck with a sword, no - he was attacked by a firebender. From the three corpses she had guesses that said Roan had done well to protect himself, and yet the question still begged.

Who? And Why?

Aya intended to find out.

Aang would come back of his own accord. That Roan he knew.

But, Azula…

Switch off her caution and all safeguards were gone, in the castle years ago she was bitter and depressed, hidden under facades of clever deceit and cold glares which carved a despicable little girl.

That first day, marking his birth in that world was a day of excitement instead of the adrenaline triggered by life and death by assassins (a lonely addiction Azula hadbegun to crave); that day a cruel little girl tasted an exotic interest into history, although not her own. It was The History of an Undead and the cycle broken.

From that day forward Roan entertained her with his tales as the reward for keeping her "outbursts" in check.

Then, it became a habit she soon would not forget.

After years of this, and adding meditation, Azula rarely relapsed, but today the mental stress had been too much, he analysed.

His eyes glinted as he glared, his voice low, agitated. "Do you know what I am going to ask, Princess Azula?"

Princess was a crude jab. One that was like an icy sliver in her chest. She stared down in shame. "...Control. Meditate until my mind is under control. I know. Forgive me, Teacher..."

"Why am I reminding you if you know…" Roan said. "The brain goes hand in hand with the heart. You cannot let your rage rule you nor your intellect. Remember, compassion and patience is key."

With a screaming shoulder he gently touched her chest - right where her heart was. His hand trembled noticeably. Azula responded with a despondent nod; his deep voice reminded her of times when they would spend feeding turtle-doves at the palace pond at a time when she felt so alone.

Silence.

In hindsight, Roan thought, he needed to take his own advice. The difference was he was excellent at hiding. Depressed or no.

"Before you meditate recite to me a poem." He said, "With this your soul, and mine, will calm. Discover again sweet peace. "

"Which one?"

Roan glanced elsewhere. Light beamed as particles shifted like sand.

Ah... that would work.

"Light and Dark," he chose.

Azula nodded. She would give her all to calm down, and then... learn something new.

"Beat,

Cast,

Challenge my starry night and break unto me my shining day.

I would argue that:

"The moon is my sun, and that star… is my brother."

Evil,

Good,

A blurred line of choice.

I would argue that:

"The star is my brother, and that sky… is my mother."

Day,

Night,

A sun... a brother... a mother... does my beating heart yearn.

I would argue that:

"Nothing could make me more happy."

Light and Dark,

Touch me and remind me of light.

I would argue that:

"My eyes... are open under the dark of light."

"So your name was what again?" Tsuki asked.

"Feng, Feng Lee," Zuko said.

Zuko had followed Sokka to the dojo and now it was his turn to spar after watching Sokka get tossed around so handily.

"Are swords permitted?"

"Yes, sheathed though."

"Good."

Zuko clashed and swiped as both him and Tsuki sparred back and forth. Respect was what he was after, and Sokka looked like he was getting some already.

"Trust" Roan said. "Inspire trust and you will form a life time of allies."

That was what he intended to do. Trust and respect. First as swordsmen, and then as friends.

In the back of the dojo, with little more than four candles lit, a woman replaced the bandages around her abdomen. In hand two tags. The third around a man's neck who was inclined next to her. Bandages snug to his chest.

He handed her a bowl of medicine.

"Sunn, next time. Do not be afraid to use as fodder again. That… monster might kill us, but you will be the one to kill him. Time will show how we end him permanently."

"I know, Takini... Have the replacements I sent for been ordered?"

"They will not be here for at least a week."

"I see. We do not have that much time. Do we let the Avatar flee with the monster?"

Takini stayed quiet.

"...Then we shall. In that, following will do well to seek out his weakness."

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