Current mood:	cynical
Current music:	Anniversary Song, Eva Cassidy
Entry tags:	-fan: fiction

After "Tealeaves" but before "Rain"
Next time I accept a challenge and give myself a 24-hour turnaround time someone please kick me - hard! Ten pages worth of false starts and I just couldn't come up with a concept I liked. I am still not happy, but my pride insists I post something! So I give you:

Meeting


A city at war does not allow anyone to enter without going through security. Even the Avatar and his companions. And because it was so late, no one was being allowed entry at all.

So they spent that first night in a tavern outside the city walls. Beyond the protection of the city’s soldiers. A noisome place, obviously the haunt of local brigands and merchants of questionable wares, it was still better than staying out in the open forest given the lowering storm clouds.

Sokka grumbled that they would have arrived in time if Katara hadn’t insisted on visiting the fortune teller again. Toph, the novelty of strange places and new experiences worn thin by fatigue, wrinkled her nose at the assault of odors around her, a noxious mélange of unwashed bodies, over-cooked cabbages and unidentifiable meats, cheap spirits, and decades of dirt. Even Aang’s irrepressible good cheer was challenged.

Katara herself was troubled. No doubt Sokka was right and the fact that they were in for a miserable night of it was her fault. Still, she would feel better facing the prospect conjured by Aunt Wu’s reading in day-light:

When you arrive at Bai Sing Sei, you will meet a man, a warrior who you will recognize as your enemy.

“We’re all just tired. We’ll feel better in the morning and if we get up early enough we can be the first ones through the gates,” she tried to say bracingly. “And at least we’ll be sleeping in beds tonight.”

“With bedbugs, no doubt,” Sokka reached over to take the dumpling still lying in a congealed pool on Toph’s plate. Every day he tried this same stunt, and every day Toph’s fist shot out and knocked his hand away. It cheered him that this particular time her effort also caught her cup and sent it flying.

“Enough, already. Let’s go to bed.”

There was only the one room available to them, and the state of the bedding was such that Sokka’s prediction was undoubtedly accurate. Katara shuddered and volunteered to fetch their own bedrolls from Appa’s litter. Sokka turned to follow her.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she asked.

“Just the big brother thing. What? You don’t want help?”

“You’re just going to make me feel guilty about it, so no, I don’t want help. I don’t need it.”

“Well, you’re not going out there in a place like this alone. Dad would kill me if I let you.”

“You have got to be kidding. You know I can look out for myself at least as well as you can.”

“I’m just saying - ”

“I’ll come with you, Katara,” Aang volunteered quickly. Toph buried her face in her palms.

“I don’t need any help!” And with that Katara slammed out of the room.

The tavern’s stable was across the yard and off to the side. At this hour there were no torches lighting the stables, but lanterns hung at the tavern’s doors, and Katara opted to forego bringing another into the stable itself. She would need both arms to carry all their bedding, and as she entered the darkened building she had second thoughts about the advisability of accepting help. A lamp would have been a good idea.

As her eyes adjusted Katara walked slowly towards the far end where they had left Appa. Momo chittered as she approached, and she murmured soothingly to them both. Digging out the bedrolls was a matter of only a few minutes, and she took another minute or two to re-stow their other belongings.

It was then she heard it.

Low voices, gutteral and disjointed. Some kind of an argument was brewing outside the stable, somewhere along the city wall. Katara remembered Sokka’s comment and her hand reached automatically to test the weight of her waterskin. It was reassuringly heavy.

Leaving the bedrolls on the ground just inside the stable door she crept along the wall to check out the disturbance. She knew she shouldn’t, that whatever was happening was none of her business, but Katara was nothing if not curious.

The argument had erupted into a full-pitched battle a mere hundred yards away, the clash of striking steel now harsh on the night air. Katara looked first towards the tavern, then to sealed gates of the city, expecting men to pour out, drawn by the noise. But no one appeared. She was apparently to be the only witness to this particular scene of violence. Grimly, she realized that such scenes probably happened with far too much frequency to draw attention for a populous concerned with its own affairs and safety.

But surely not just such a scene. She made out five, no, six men, armed with halberds and swords converged on a single opponent whose back was towards her, wielding a sword in each hand. At first Katara was convinced the lone figure would be cut down immediately, and her sense of fair play was outraged. But as she watched she rapidly revised her opinion.

The single man fought like a demon. Even in the darkness there was a grace and precision of movement that struck a chord in her memory, but she couldn’t place it. First one and then a second assailant fell before his fury. The remainder drew back, now circling him in caution. And as he turned within their circle she was startled to see the stark features of an oni mask covering his face.

With a yell the four men attacked. She couldn’t explain it later, but somehow the masked warrior succeeded in deflecting their blows, spinning blades arcing and a flying kick dropping yet another attacker. It was frightening and yet beautiful, and Katara made up her mind. She ran toward the fray, removing the stopper from her waterskin as she closed the distance.

Once close enough she aimed a water whip at a halberd slicing at the masked man’s open back, snapping it out of the attacker’s hands. Bringing the whip back, she lashed it at his chest with all her force, and was rewarded as the man fell with a satisfyingly hard thump.

One of the remaining assailants looked at the dancing blades before him, his fallen comrades, and the additional threat of the approaching water-bender. He opted to abandon the fight, spitting an oath upon the owner of the mask as he spun on one heel and fled. Only to be followed immediately by his fellow.

Katara had stopped while still well away from the field of combat. She didn’t need to be close to use her bending, and there was no point in getting close to those flying weapons. The masked warrior watched the combatants flee, weapons still ready, and then turned to face Katara. The blank stare of the mask was disconcerting, and a long moment passed in which neither of them moved.

Then his arms dropped, and he took a step in her direction.

She retreated a half step. “Wait. What-“

“Katara!”

Sokka stood in the tavern doorway, clearly recognizable in the lantern’s glow. Katara looked back at the sound of her name, and then turned back to the dimly seen figure in the mask.

But he was gone, having slid away in the darkness.

___