"Where's your brother?"
"Here," Tavi answered, raising one hand from beside Pathik.
The old fisherman visibly relaxed.
"Good to see you, boy," he called, then glanced toward the walking stick supporting Tavi's weight. "What happened to your leg?"
"I fell," Tavi admitted.
Bera stared at him.
Then sighed.
"Of course you did."
I laughed.
Apparently, Tavi's reputation extended beyond his immediate family.
Once the boat was secured, Bera stepped onto the rocky landing and embraced Nima with the unmistakable affection of someone who had known her since childhood. She clung to him for several moments, and when they finally separated, the fisherman gently placed one hand against her shoulder.
"Your father would've been worried sick," he murmured, his expression softening.
Nima looked down.
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Then Bera cleared his throat and turned toward Pathik.
"You helped them?" he asked, looking between the old man and the two siblings.
Pathik smiled.
"They found their way to the temple during the storm," he explained. "We were fortunate enough to have somewhere warm for them to rest."
Bera shook his head.
"Fortunate, my foot," he muttered, though his expression was grateful. "You saved them a miserable night on the mountain. I owe you."
Pathik waved the suggestion away.
"No debt is necessary," he assured the fisherman. "Though if you could help them reach a safer port, I'm sure they'd be grateful."
Bera glanced toward Nima.
"You're coming with us," he decided. "We'll take you to the village first, then see about getting you passage toward the mainland."
Nima looked relieved.
"Thank you," she whispered.
The fisherman nodded, then glanced toward the cliffs.
"And the Little Heron?"
Nima hesitated.
I watched her expression change as she considered the question.
"She's in the southern cove," she answered quietly. "The hull's damaged, but we managed to secure her above the tide. I don't think she'll survive another crossing without proper repairs."
Bera frowned.
"Show me where when I come back," he said. "I know a boatwright who owes me a favor. Might take some time, but we'll see what can be done."
Nima stared at him.
Then laughed, wiping at her eyes.
"You make it sound easy."
"Didn't say it'd be easy," Bera replied, grinning beneath his beard. "Just said we'd try."
I liked him immediately.
Preparations for departure took longer than I'd expected.
Bera's boat was carrying several baskets of fish, along with nets, spare rope, and a small collection of supplies intended for trading between the islands. The crew rearranged part of the cargo to make room for Nima and Tavi, while Pathik helped carry the siblings' belongings down from the trail.
I assisted with a few smaller bundles.
Mostly because everyone else was busy.
And because Tavi kept trying to carry things despite his injured ankle, which seemed like an excellent way for him to undo several days of recovery.
"Give me that," I told him, taking a bundle from his hands.
Tavi frowned.
"I can carry it."
"I know."
I adjusted the strap.
"Still taking it."
He looked annoyed.
Then shrugged.
"Fine."
We continued toward the boat, where Nima was speaking with Bera about the route to his village. The fisherman explained that they'd remain close to the western islands, avoiding the main shipping channel until they were certain the Fire Nation patrol had moved farther east. If the weather remained favorable, they should reach his home before evening.
It sounded reasonable.
Nima seemed satisfied.
Pathik offered a few final instructions regarding Tavi's ankle, reminding him to rest whenever possible and avoid placing unnecessary strain upon the injury. The boy listened with the grave expression of someone receiving an extremely important military briefing.
I suspected he'd forget half of it within an hour.
Still, he nodded politely.
Once the supplies were aboard, Nima approached us.
For a moment, she seemed uncertain what to say.
Then she smiled.
"Thank you," she told Pathik, her voice quiet but sincere. "For everything. I don't think we'd have made it without you."
The old man returned her smile.
"I'm glad we could help," he replied, placing a gentle hand upon her shoulder. "Take care of each other, and remember that you're always welcome to visit if your travels bring you back this way."
Nima nodded.
Then she turned toward me.
I looked up at her.
She smiled faintly.
"And you," she began, shaking her head with amusement. "I still can't figure you out."
I blinked.
"Okay."
She laughed.
"That's exactly what I mean."
I shrugged, smiling a little.
Nima crouched until we were closer to eye level, then gently brushed a loose strand of hair away from my face. I tolerated the gesture for approximately two seconds before leaning back, more embarrassed than I'd expected.
"Thanks for helping with the boat," she said. "And for keeping Tavi entertained."
I nodded.
"He's fun."
Her expression softened.
"Yeah," she agreed. "He is."
For a moment, we simply looked at one another.
Then Nima pulled me into a brief hug.
I stiffened in surprise.
Not because I disliked affection.
I simply hadn't expected it.
After a second, I returned the hug awkwardly, patting her back while wondering whether I was supposed to say something.
Fortunately, Nima didn't seem to expect anything.
When she stepped away, she was smiling.
"Don't get into too much trouble, okay?" she asked.
I considered that.
"Can't promise."
She laughed again.
"Yeah. Thought so."
Tavi approached next.
He was carrying something in one hand, though he kept it hidden behind his back as he stopped in front of me.
I looked at him.
He looked at me.
Then grinned.
"Got something for you."
I raised an eyebrow.
"Oh?"
He held out his hand.
Resting upon his palm was a small shell.
It was pale white with faint blue markings running along its curved surface, and someone had scratched a simple spiral pattern into the center. The carving was uneven, as though it had been made with a small knife by someone who wasn't particularly experienced.
I picked it up carefully.
The shell was smooth.
Cool.
And rather pretty.
"Found it near the beach before we left," Tavi explained, shifting his weight away from his injured ankle. "I carved the pattern while you were sleeping yesterday. It's supposed to look like wind."
I examined the little spiral.
It was crooked.
A little uneven.
But unmistakably recognizable.
I smiled.
"I like it."
Tavi brightened.
"Really?"
"Yeah."
I turned the shell over, examining the pale blue markings along its edge.
"It's nice."
The boy looked pleased.
Then he hesitated.
"Will you still be here if we come back?" he asked, glancing toward the distant temple buildings.
I considered the question.
Honestly, I had no idea.
There was an entire world waiting beyond these islands, and I intended to explore it eventually. I wanted to see the great cities of the Earth Kingdom, the forests of the Fire Nation, the frozen landscapes of the Water Tribes, and the strange places inhabited by spirits.
But I wasn't in any particular hurry.
"Maybe," I answered. "Depends when you come back."
Tavi nodded slowly.
Then grinned.
"If you're gone, I'll find you."
I laughed.
"Good luck."
He looked offended.
"I'm serious!"
"I know."
I smiled at him.
"Still good luck."
Tavi laughed, apparently accepting the challenge.
Then he held out one hand.
I looked at it.
He waited.
After a moment, I bumped my fist against his.
He grinned.
And that was that.
No grand farewell.
No dramatic promises.
Just a small shell and a boy who apparently intended to find me again someday.
I thought that was enough.
We watched the fishing boat depart from the western inlet.
Bera stood near the stern, guiding the vessel carefully between the rocks while his crew adjusted the sail. Nima remained beside Tavi near the center of the boat, one hand resting upon her brother's shoulder as they waved toward us.
Pathik returned the gesture.
I raised one hand.
The boat moved steadily toward the open sea, its green-and-white sail catching the morning wind. Within several minutes, it had passed beyond the headland and begun traveling westward, following a route between the neighboring islands.
I watched until it became a small shape against the horizon.
Then I lowered my hand.
The inlet seemed quieter without them.
Not particularly sad.
Just different.
A few days earlier, Nima and Tavi had been strangers who appeared during a storm, exhausted and frightened. Now I knew what their father had named his boat, how badly Tavi carved fish, and that Nima possessed a remarkable amount of patience whenever her younger brother decided to do something foolish.
Little things.
Ordinary things.
But they made the siblings feel considerably more real than the people I had once watched through a television screen.
I looked down at the shell resting in my palm.
Its crooked spiral caught the sunlight.
I smiled faintly.
"Nice kid," I murmured.
Pathik glanced toward me.
"He is," the old man agreed, his expression warm. "They've both been through a great deal. I hope their journey becomes a little easier from here."
I nodded.
"Me too."
For a while, we stood quietly beside the water.
Then Pathik turned toward the mountain trail.
"Well, Jinx, shall we head home?" he asked, resting his walking staff against one shoulder.
I looked toward the distant temple.
Then toward the old supply lift waiting somewhere above the trees.
My legs were already beginning to complain.
I sighed.
"Yeah. I'm tired."
Pathik chuckled.
"You've had quite an adventure these past few days."
I looked toward the sea again.
He wasn't wrong.
We'd explored the island, visited an ancient shrine, discovered unusual creatures, examined a damaged boat, avoided attracting the attention of a Fire Nation patrol, and helped two travelers find a safer way to continue their journey.
I'd even managed a small Coldbending experiment without touching the water.
Not bad.
Not bad at all.
Still, there was one thing I'd learned with absolute certainty.
Adventures involved far too much walking.
That evening, I placed Tavi's shell beside my sleeping mat.
It rested upon the small wooden table near the window, its pale surface illuminated by the last fading traces of sunlight. I'd cleaned away the remaining sand and examined the spiral several times, wondering how long the boy had spent carving it while I slept.
Probably not very long.
The lines were rather uneven.
But that didn't bother me.
I liked it.
Outside, the Eastern Air Temple had grown quiet.
The wind moved gently through the ancient courtyards, carrying the distant sound of the sea toward the mountain peaks. Somewhere below, Pathik was preparing tea, and the familiar smell of herbs drifted faintly through the hallway.
I sat beside the window, watching the sky darken.
For several minutes, I allowed my imagination to wander.
I pictured Nima and Tavi reaching Bera's village, finding somewhere warm to sleep, and eventually arranging passage toward the Earth Kingdom mainland. Perhaps they'd settle with their relatives, or perhaps Nima would eventually return to repair the Little Heron and continue sailing between the islands.
Maybe Tavi would grow into a skilled fisherman.
Maybe he'd become a merchant.
Maybe he'd decide that carving ridiculous wooden animals was his true calling.
I had no idea.
And I rather liked that.
Their stories would continue beyond the few days I'd spent with them, unfolding in directions I couldn't possibly predict.
I wondered whether we'd meet again.
Perhaps.
Perhaps not.
Either way, I was glad I'd met them.
The thought settled comfortably in my mind, requiring no further explanation.
After a while, the sun disappeared completely, and the first stars began appearing above the sea.
Then the moon rose.
It emerged slowly beyond the eastern horizon, its pale light spreading across the water in a long, shimmering path. The waves reflected its glow, turning the distant ocean into something resembling an enormous field of scattered silver.
I watched quietly.
The moon.
Humanity's original waterbending teacher.
I remembered the explanation from the series, how the first waterbenders had learned by observing the moon's influence upon the tides. They had watched the water rise and fall, studying the relationship between the ocean and the celestial body that guided its movement.
It was a beautiful idea.
The first waterbenders hadn't learned by conquering the sea.
They'd learned by watching.
By understanding.
By recognizing a relationship that already existed.
I glanced toward my hand.
The same hand that had produced a tiny crystal of frost earlier that day.
A small smile spread across my face.
Maybe there was something to that.
I'd spent so much time trying to force my bending to behave according to the ideas inside my head that I'd nearly forgotten the world itself was constantly demonstrating the principles I wanted to understand.
The sun warmed the earth.
The wind carried heat away.
The ocean rose and fell beneath the moon's influence.
And everywhere, energy moved through countless processes that ordinary people rarely stopped to consider.
What would happen if I learned to observe those processes more carefully?
Not simply memorize facts about them.
Not merely imagine what they looked like.
Actually understand them.
Perhaps Coldbending wasn't something I needed to invent from nothing.
Perhaps the world had been teaching its principles all along, and I'd simply never possessed the ability to listen.
I leaned against the windowframe, watching the moonlight ripple across the sea.
A strange thought occurred to me.
The moon was the original teacher of waterbending, but it wasn't merely a distant object in this world. It was connected to the Moon Spirit, one of the ancient beings whose existence shaped the balance between the physical and spiritual realms.
And Death had told me that one of the conditions for unlocking my mysterious final gift involved encountering the original benders of water and air.
The moon.
And the sky bison.
I looked toward the pale light spreading across the water.
The moon was right there.
Visible.
Beautiful.
Completely indifferent to the fact that I was sitting in an ancient temple wondering whether it might someday teach me something extraordinary.
But seeing the moon wasn't the same as meeting the spirit connected to it.
I knew that.
Death's condition wouldn't be satisfied simply because I'd looked out a window.
Still, I found myself smiling.
"Wonder what you're like," I murmured, resting my chin upon my hand.
The moon offered no response.
Naturally.
I watched it for a little longer before my thoughts wandered toward the sky bison.
Enormous.
Fluffy.
Capable of flying.
And apparently rather fond of eating.
I wanted one.
That desire hadn't diminished in the slightest.
In fact, after spending several days climbing mountains and carrying supplies, I was beginning to consider acquiring a flying bison an essential long-term investment in my personal happiness.
The ability to travel across the world while lying comfortably upon an enormous furry creature sounded almost too wonderful to be real.
Unfortunately, finding one would be difficult.
And convincing it to carry me might be even more difficult.
I sighed.
Another problem for another day.
A faint knock sounded against my doorframe.
"Jinx?" Pathik called, his voice gentle. "I've made some tea, if you'd like to join me."
I glanced toward the doorway.
Then toward the moon.
For a moment, I considered remaining where I was.
The view was lovely, and I was comfortable.
But the thought of sitting with Pathik sounded pleasant too.
"Coming," I answered, rising from the windowsill.
I paused beside the small wooden table.
Tavi's shell rested beneath the moonlight, its crooked spiral catching a faint silver glow.
I picked it up and turned it once between my fingers.
Then placed it carefully beside the bed again.
There it could remain until I decided where to keep it.
A little reminder of my first adventure beyond the Eastern Air Temple.
I smiled faintly.
Not a bad beginning.
Not bad at all.
I left the room and followed the familiar scent of tea toward the kitchen, where Pathik was waiting beside a warm lantern.
Outside, the moon continued its slow journey across the sky.
The sea moved beneath it.
The wind whispered through the ancient temple.
And somewhere beyond the surrounding islands, countless lives continued unfolding in ways I would never see.
For once, I didn't feel particularly compelled to imagine all of them.
The real world was interesting enough.