![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
anghrainetitle: the edge of darkness (4/6)
verse: the edge of darkness (bloodbending backstory+f!Tarrlok)
characters: Noatak, Tarrlok; Yakone, OC—Zianka
stuff that happens: a girl from the village takes notice of Noatak.
previous sections: one, two, three
CHAPTER FOUR
In recent years, Yakone hadn’t bothered to personally continue Noatak and Taraka’s training in traditional waterbending. They were accomplished enough already, as long as they kept practicing; any further training would only distract them from bloodbending. Taraka, however, retained a strong affinity for their element: not as blood or even ice, but in its most basic form. Noatak, if anything, felt a still deeper connection to water. Just moving through the forms brought him a measure of peace that nothing else did.
He tried to keep practicing—with Taraka, when possible, but even when she could not be spared, he would make his way to their old training area and work through his stances. They’d been so busy lately, though, that he’d had little opportunity for it.
Noatak shifted into position, starting with gathering the water from everything in his immediate vicinity, then pulling it into a stream, looping it over and around him. The stream trailed smoothly after the sweeps of his fingers and arms. Perfect. He stretched it into a whip, whirling it around him, slicing neatly through a small stone, and snapping it at a curious bird, which squawked and fled. Perfect. He escalated through the liquid forms, collecting more and more water, whirling it around him in a loop that he expanded into a spinning, roaring shield—perfect as far as he could tell, but he needed Taraka to test it for him. He split the shield into two massive waves, which rose high above him, curving forward and then back at his command. He held them up for as long as he could, then twisted them into gigantic versions of the loops he’d started out with. Finally, he lowered them almost to the ground, letting the water fall the remaining few inches as snow.
Noatak returned to his original position, hands flat in front of him, and breathed out. He was very calm.
A drop of water dripped on his nose, then another. Noatak tensed, rubbing the water away. His forehead was damp, too. Not sweat: a few drops from the waves had escaped his control, sprinkling down on his face. It’d been almost perfect.
His hands clenched into fists.
“That’s not good enough,” he snarled at himself.
“Well, I thought it was pretty good.”
Noatak spun around to find himself looking at a vaguely familiar girl of his own age. What was wrong with him? He hadn’t even noticed there was an intruder! He was the best bloodbender ever—why did this keep happening?
The girl smiled at him. She had large, straight teeth, a turned-up nose, and wide cheeks. After a moment’s consideration, he decided that she was prettyish, in an undignified way. He’d never seen her up close before.
“What are you doing here?” he demanded.
She laughed. “I live here. Well, just over there.” She waved her hand towards the opposite side of the village.
“I know that. I wasn’t talking about the whole village.”
“Oh, right here?” Her voice went higher. “I, um, well. I’m a waterbender too.”
Frowning, he said, "Okay? What does that—"
“But not like you. You’re really talented!”
“I know,” said Noatak. Trying be fair, he added, “My sister is, too.”
“Oh, I forgot about your sister,” the girl said, looking disconcerted.
His eyes narrowed.
“I mean—I didn’t forget you had a sister, just … things. She’s Takora, right?”
“Taraka,” Noatak said. “Maybe you’d like to challenge her to a duel.”
The girl giggled nervously. “Oh, I don’t think so. I don’t know any duelling kind of stuff. Can she do all the things you just did?”
Noatak thought back to the forms he had practiced. “Yes.”
“Wow,” she said. “My dad would never teach me anything like that. I like healing, though.”
“So does Taraka,” said Noatak. “Why did you say you were here?”
“Oh, I was just walking around,” she said, with a spectacularly unconvincing smile. She wasn’t just a worse waterbender than Taraka. “And I saw you waterbending. It was really impressive, so I stayed and watched. I’ve … I’ve seen you around. Places. The village, I mean.”
She didn’t seem very articulate, either. Noatak was relieved to sense an approaching body—one too small to be Yakone’s.
“I’ve lived here my whole life, so it’d be strange if you hadn’t,” he said.
“Well, you’re not here very much, and nobody seems to know you. I had to ask three people just to find out your name.”
Noatak stared. She seemed more and more suspicious by the minute. “You were asking people about me?”
The girl flushed. So she was up to something. Fortunately, before she could fabricate another nonsense story, Taraka came running down the hill. Noatak and his companion faced a little away, but there was no missing her approach. Somehow, the girl managed it. She started, gave a small shriek, and clapped a hand over her heart.
Taraka started. Then, with an unimpressed shrug, she turned towards Noatak, clearly dismissing the other girl.
“Sorry I’m late,” she said. “I had to help skin the seal leopard.”
“Seal leopard? That’ll be good,” said Noatak. For the first time in his life, he wished he knew a little less about waterbending and a little more about making people leave. Taraka was better at that kind of thing, anyway. He sent her a pleading glance.
“Yeah. Mom says to tell you not to eat all the jerky this time, though,” she said breezily.
“Um,” the stranger said.
Taraka deigned to look at her, imbuing the slight movement of her head with an air of supreme condescension. “Oh, sorry, I thought you were going. Did you need something?”
“I was talking to Noatak about his bending, actually,” the girl said.
Taraka frowned. “We’re not supposed to talk to strangers. Isn’t that right, brother?”
“Yes!” he said, eagerly latching onto the excuse. “Our father will be angry if he finds you here.”
The girl looked far too disappointed for passing interest in another waterbender. What did she know? And what didn’t she know, that she seemed so desperate to find out more? It wasn’t just his imagination, either. Taraka’s face was plastered over with a poisonously sweet look that he’d never seen her direct at anyone but Yakone.
“But I’m not a stranger!” the stranger protested. “I’ve lived here for years and years. Tak—Taraka threw snow in my face when we were little girls and your mother dragged her away by the ear. You were there, too.” In a faintly injured tone, she added, “You laughed.”
“Oh, you don’t have to be offended. We laughed at everything back then,” said Taraka, stepping forward to stand beside and slightly in front of Noatak. “I think I remember, but—sorry, what was your name?”
“Zianka,” said the girl, sounding disgruntled.
It didn’t sound familiar, but Noatak thought he sort of remembered what Zianka was talking about. He had some dim memory, anyway, of a prissy girl his age trying to boss Taraka around and getting a faceful of snow for her trouble. It really had been funny. He looked at his sister speculatively. It would still be funny.
“Well, enough that you didn’t know my name and I didn’t know yours,” he said, bored. “That counts. You’d better go before he finds you.”
“And we’re not really supposed to talk to neighbours, either,” Taraka added.
Zianka was scowling. “Your dad sounds weird,” she said.
“He is,” Taraka said fervently.
Zianka turned to leave, then paused, and glanced back over her shoulder at Noatak. She smiled a little. “Those were some great waterbending moves. If you can get away, maybe you could teach me what you know. Privately.”
He understood. She wanted to get him alone. Was she planning an ambush? Maybe she suspected, and thought she could force him to reveal his bloodbending that way. She was probably planning to blackmail him later on. If he refused outright, it would only convince her that he was hiding something.
“Well—um—”
“Dad would probably kill him if he did,” said Taraka cheerfully. Then her eyes went wide and she pointed; a tall, gaunt figure—Yakone—was ducking inside the tent. “Noatak, he’s here!”
Noatak’s pretended alarm promptly turned genuine. “You’ve got to go right now,” he snapped, pushing at Zianka’s back. “Seriously, hurry, before he sees you!”
“Fine,” Zianka said, and ran off.
Once the strange girl was safely out of sight, Noatak glanced down at his sister. She was still standing a little in front of him, tall and deliberately relaxed—standing, in fact, in the next thing to a waterbending stance. She was smiling again, too, but it wasn’t the aggressively bright smile she had directed at Zianka: just a slight tug at the corner of her mouth, unmistakably smug.
His own mouth twitched. “What was it going to be? Ice-claws? Daggers? A razor-whip?”
“Just a water-whip, she’s not dangerous,” Taraka said automatically, then winced. She backed up to her usual place just behind him. “I mean, if she wouldn’t leave on her own. Just to scare her away. Dad—”
Noatak studied her; the faint smirk hadn’t quite left her face. He couldn’t believe that she thought him that pathetic. What kind of weakling needed his little sister to defend him? Not just covering for him or something like that, but Taraka, protecting him with bending? He was stronger than she’d ever be! It was stupid, and insulting, and—and he should be angry. For some reason, though, he couldn’t bring himself to mind all that much.
“I don’t need you to protect me,” he said, for what felt like the dozenth time. What even went on in her mind, that “I must protect my incredibly powerful older brother” was actually a thought that crossed it? Repeatedly?
“Okay,” said Taraka amiably.
Her face shone with sincerity. It was the same face she usually presented to Yakone, and he definitely should have been angry about that. But he couldn’t seem to manage it. Worse: somehow, it was almost … endearing? Just Taraka being Taraka. Well, he reminded himself, there was no point in losing his temper over it. Getting angry at Taraka for lying was like getting angry at the sun for rising in the east.
Noatak forced himself to scowl at her. “Listen, Taraka. I’m not your property.”
“I know that!” He thought her earnest look might be real, this time.
“And I especially don’t need you to scare off some girl from the village who can’t even bend properly, even if she was spying on us.”
“Spying,” Taraka repeated.
His eyebrows went up. “Well, what else?”
She actually snickered. “Seriously? You can’t tell?”
“What are you talking about?”
“She li-ikes you,” Taraka sang out.
“Don’t be stupid.”
“I’m not the one being stupid,” she said, tossing her hair back. Noatak’s eyes narrowed and he instantly melted a pile of snow and splashed it in her direction. Taraka, still grinning, danced out of the way. “Think about it. If she came to spy on you because she’s guessed the truth, shouldn’t she be just as glad to spy on me? She definitely didn’t want me there.”
“But she said she’d been asking questions—”
“About Dad? Me? Or just you?” She slanted him a sly glance. “What sorts of questions, anyway?”
“She said she’d been asking my name, and ... well, I don’t know what else,” said Noatak.
She just looked at him.
“Oh, fine,” he said crossly, thinking through the bizarre conversation. That actually did make a bit more sense. He could feel his cheeks starting to heat. “But if you weren’t worried about her spying, then why—”
Taraka grimaced. “I don’t like her, that’s all.” She stared at the ground, apparently fascinated by the snow underfoot.
“You’re jealous?” said Noatak, not quite able to keep the incredulity out of his voice. Their father had preferred him all their lives—even in the beginning, though of course it’d gotten worse in the last few years. Yakone had been constantly, unfavourably comparing Taraka to him for almost as long, practically holding him up to her as an idol. Yet she’d only ever seemed grateful that Noatak stood between her and the full glare of Yakone’s demands. Jealousy was about the only emotion he hadn’t seen from her. It just wasn’t her.
“No,” snapped Taraka, though her skin was reddening. “I just don’t—who does she think she is, anyway, asking for private lessons? She can’t even waterbend properly. And she’s stupid besides. She’s not good enough for you!”
This was so near Noatak’s opinion on the subject that he didn’t know whether to be gratified or disconcerted.
“And imagine what Dad would do,” she went on, “if he found you wasting time with a girl when you could be bending.”
“I was bending,” said Noatak.
Zianka had vanished entirely by the time Yakone stepped back out of the tent. Noatak could only hope he hadn’t seen her on his way in.
The next few days passed unremarkably enough. Their father didn’t mention the forbidden fraternization—and with a lowly healer, too! He seemed just the same as always. Noatak shrugged the whole business off; he couldn’t tell what Taraka thought about it. She kept her face blank of anything but agreeable compliance around their father, and her heart and lungs told him nothing in this matter. Even bloodbending had its limitations, though Yakone would never see them.
Almost a week later, Taraka was dutifully attacking Noatak’s liquid shield when their father walked out to oversee them. Neither sibling faltered. Noatak kept pouring water into his shield; Taraka only increased the number and speed of the ice chunks she was hurling at him. He could scarcely see her through the obscuring water—he’d have to find a solution to that—and caught the blurry twist of one of her hands just in time to dodge a whip slashing under the shield and take hold of it before it curled around his ankles.
“That’s enough,” Yakone said. Noatak waited the second it took Taraka to lower her hands, then let the shield slosh to the ground. “Excellent work, Noatak. Taraka—”
Noatak felt, rather than saw, her brace herself.
“You’re making progress. Picked up some tricks from your friends, eh?”
Confusion briefly replaced her default expression. “My what?”
“We don’t have friends,” Noatak said, equally puzzled. Then his face cleared. “Oh, you mean what’s-her-name, the girl who came by last week? She wasn’t here for Taraka.”
His father’s pale eyes turned to him, narrowing. Before either could speak, Taraka interjected,
“We didn’t know her. She’s just some healer.”
“She showed up out of nowhere while I was practicing. We told her to go away,” said Noatak. “She wanted me to teach her our waterbending, or something.”
“As if some village nobody could learn what we know,” Taraka said contemptuously. The angry disdain in her voice and face seemed very real.
Yakone studied them for a moment; then, to both siblings’ astonishment and concealed alarm, he burst out laughing, clapping Taraka’s shoulder.
“That’s my girl,” he said. She blinked. “Looks like both of you are just about ready to try your luck in the city. We’ll go hunting this weekend. There’s one more technique you’ve got to practice. If the two of you manage that, I’ll send you south this season.”
He strode back into the tent. Noatak and Taraka stared after him, dumbfounded, then at one another. Even just a few months earlier, they might have been cautiously optimistic at the sudden opportunity. As it was, each saw their own horror on the other’s face.
“Did you ever think he’d let us go early?” she said finally.
“No.” Noatak folded his arms. “I always said you were advanced for your age, but not … honestly, I figured he likes making you cringe too much to let you go a day before he needed to.”
“Me, too,” said Taraka, unperturbed by his description of her. “I guess he doesn’t want to wait any longer for his revenge. He is getting older.”
“Maybe.”
She bit her lip. “Do you think it’s going to be awful?”
“Yes,” said Noatak. He didn’t elaborate. “Just remember—everything.”
“I’ll try.”
He gave her a cold look.
“I mean, I will remember.”
“I don’t care what he’s planning. This is our chance. If we can get through this last thing, we’ll be out of here, forever. Three years earlier than we expected, too.” He paused, his gaze as fierce as hers was solemn. “Don’t mess this up.”
Taraka nodded. “I won’t,” she promised.
verse: the edge of darkness (bloodbending backstory+f!Tarrlok)
characters: Noatak, Tarrlok; Yakone, OC—Zianka
stuff that happens: a girl from the village takes notice of Noatak.
previous sections: one, two, three
“I, um, well. I’m a waterbender too.”
Frowning, he said, "Okay? What does that—"
“But not like you. You’re really talented!”
“I know,” said Noatak. Trying be fair, he added, “My sister is, too.”
“Oh, I forgot about your sister,” the girl said.
Frowning, he said, "Okay? What does that—"
“But not like you. You’re really talented!”
“I know,” said Noatak. Trying be fair, he added, “My sister is, too.”
“Oh, I forgot about your sister,” the girl said.
CHAPTER FOUR
In recent years, Yakone hadn’t bothered to personally continue Noatak and Taraka’s training in traditional waterbending. They were accomplished enough already, as long as they kept practicing; any further training would only distract them from bloodbending. Taraka, however, retained a strong affinity for their element: not as blood or even ice, but in its most basic form. Noatak, if anything, felt a still deeper connection to water. Just moving through the forms brought him a measure of peace that nothing else did.
He tried to keep practicing—with Taraka, when possible, but even when she could not be spared, he would make his way to their old training area and work through his stances. They’d been so busy lately, though, that he’d had little opportunity for it.
Noatak shifted into position, starting with gathering the water from everything in his immediate vicinity, then pulling it into a stream, looping it over and around him. The stream trailed smoothly after the sweeps of his fingers and arms. Perfect. He stretched it into a whip, whirling it around him, slicing neatly through a small stone, and snapping it at a curious bird, which squawked and fled. Perfect. He escalated through the liquid forms, collecting more and more water, whirling it around him in a loop that he expanded into a spinning, roaring shield—perfect as far as he could tell, but he needed Taraka to test it for him. He split the shield into two massive waves, which rose high above him, curving forward and then back at his command. He held them up for as long as he could, then twisted them into gigantic versions of the loops he’d started out with. Finally, he lowered them almost to the ground, letting the water fall the remaining few inches as snow.
Noatak returned to his original position, hands flat in front of him, and breathed out. He was very calm.
A drop of water dripped on his nose, then another. Noatak tensed, rubbing the water away. His forehead was damp, too. Not sweat: a few drops from the waves had escaped his control, sprinkling down on his face. It’d been almost perfect.
His hands clenched into fists.
“That’s not good enough,” he snarled at himself.
“Well, I thought it was pretty good.”
Noatak spun around to find himself looking at a vaguely familiar girl of his own age. What was wrong with him? He hadn’t even noticed there was an intruder! He was the best bloodbender ever—why did this keep happening?
The girl smiled at him. She had large, straight teeth, a turned-up nose, and wide cheeks. After a moment’s consideration, he decided that she was prettyish, in an undignified way. He’d never seen her up close before.
“What are you doing here?” he demanded.
She laughed. “I live here. Well, just over there.” She waved her hand towards the opposite side of the village.
“I know that. I wasn’t talking about the whole village.”
“Oh, right here?” Her voice went higher. “I, um, well. I’m a waterbender too.”
Frowning, he said, "Okay? What does that—"
“But not like you. You’re really talented!”
“I know,” said Noatak. Trying be fair, he added, “My sister is, too.”
“Oh, I forgot about your sister,” the girl said, looking disconcerted.
His eyes narrowed.
“I mean—I didn’t forget you had a sister, just … things. She’s Takora, right?”
“Taraka,” Noatak said. “Maybe you’d like to challenge her to a duel.”
The girl giggled nervously. “Oh, I don’t think so. I don’t know any duelling kind of stuff. Can she do all the things you just did?”
Noatak thought back to the forms he had practiced. “Yes.”
“Wow,” she said. “My dad would never teach me anything like that. I like healing, though.”
“So does Taraka,” said Noatak. “Why did you say you were here?”
“Oh, I was just walking around,” she said, with a spectacularly unconvincing smile. She wasn’t just a worse waterbender than Taraka. “And I saw you waterbending. It was really impressive, so I stayed and watched. I’ve … I’ve seen you around. Places. The village, I mean.”
She didn’t seem very articulate, either. Noatak was relieved to sense an approaching body—one too small to be Yakone’s.
“I’ve lived here my whole life, so it’d be strange if you hadn’t,” he said.
“Well, you’re not here very much, and nobody seems to know you. I had to ask three people just to find out your name.”
Noatak stared. She seemed more and more suspicious by the minute. “You were asking people about me?”
The girl flushed. So she was up to something. Fortunately, before she could fabricate another nonsense story, Taraka came running down the hill. Noatak and his companion faced a little away, but there was no missing her approach. Somehow, the girl managed it. She started, gave a small shriek, and clapped a hand over her heart.
Taraka started. Then, with an unimpressed shrug, she turned towards Noatak, clearly dismissing the other girl.
“Sorry I’m late,” she said. “I had to help skin the seal leopard.”
“Seal leopard? That’ll be good,” said Noatak. For the first time in his life, he wished he knew a little less about waterbending and a little more about making people leave. Taraka was better at that kind of thing, anyway. He sent her a pleading glance.
“Yeah. Mom says to tell you not to eat all the jerky this time, though,” she said breezily.
“Um,” the stranger said.
Taraka deigned to look at her, imbuing the slight movement of her head with an air of supreme condescension. “Oh, sorry, I thought you were going. Did you need something?”
“I was talking to Noatak about his bending, actually,” the girl said.
Taraka frowned. “We’re not supposed to talk to strangers. Isn’t that right, brother?”
“Yes!” he said, eagerly latching onto the excuse. “Our father will be angry if he finds you here.”
The girl looked far too disappointed for passing interest in another waterbender. What did she know? And what didn’t she know, that she seemed so desperate to find out more? It wasn’t just his imagination, either. Taraka’s face was plastered over with a poisonously sweet look that he’d never seen her direct at anyone but Yakone.
“But I’m not a stranger!” the stranger protested. “I’ve lived here for years and years. Tak—Taraka threw snow in my face when we were little girls and your mother dragged her away by the ear. You were there, too.” In a faintly injured tone, she added, “You laughed.”
“Oh, you don’t have to be offended. We laughed at everything back then,” said Taraka, stepping forward to stand beside and slightly in front of Noatak. “I think I remember, but—sorry, what was your name?”
“Zianka,” said the girl, sounding disgruntled.
It didn’t sound familiar, but Noatak thought he sort of remembered what Zianka was talking about. He had some dim memory, anyway, of a prissy girl his age trying to boss Taraka around and getting a faceful of snow for her trouble. It really had been funny. He looked at his sister speculatively. It would still be funny.
“Well, enough that you didn’t know my name and I didn’t know yours,” he said, bored. “That counts. You’d better go before he finds you.”
“And we’re not really supposed to talk to neighbours, either,” Taraka added.
Zianka was scowling. “Your dad sounds weird,” she said.
“He is,” Taraka said fervently.
Zianka turned to leave, then paused, and glanced back over her shoulder at Noatak. She smiled a little. “Those were some great waterbending moves. If you can get away, maybe you could teach me what you know. Privately.”
He understood. She wanted to get him alone. Was she planning an ambush? Maybe she suspected, and thought she could force him to reveal his bloodbending that way. She was probably planning to blackmail him later on. If he refused outright, it would only convince her that he was hiding something.
“Well—um—”
“Dad would probably kill him if he did,” said Taraka cheerfully. Then her eyes went wide and she pointed; a tall, gaunt figure—Yakone—was ducking inside the tent. “Noatak, he’s here!”
Noatak’s pretended alarm promptly turned genuine. “You’ve got to go right now,” he snapped, pushing at Zianka’s back. “Seriously, hurry, before he sees you!”
“Fine,” Zianka said, and ran off.
Once the strange girl was safely out of sight, Noatak glanced down at his sister. She was still standing a little in front of him, tall and deliberately relaxed—standing, in fact, in the next thing to a waterbending stance. She was smiling again, too, but it wasn’t the aggressively bright smile she had directed at Zianka: just a slight tug at the corner of her mouth, unmistakably smug.
His own mouth twitched. “What was it going to be? Ice-claws? Daggers? A razor-whip?”
“Just a water-whip, she’s not dangerous,” Taraka said automatically, then winced. She backed up to her usual place just behind him. “I mean, if she wouldn’t leave on her own. Just to scare her away. Dad—”
Noatak studied her; the faint smirk hadn’t quite left her face. He couldn’t believe that she thought him that pathetic. What kind of weakling needed his little sister to defend him? Not just covering for him or something like that, but Taraka, protecting him with bending? He was stronger than she’d ever be! It was stupid, and insulting, and—and he should be angry. For some reason, though, he couldn’t bring himself to mind all that much.
“I don’t need you to protect me,” he said, for what felt like the dozenth time. What even went on in her mind, that “I must protect my incredibly powerful older brother” was actually a thought that crossed it? Repeatedly?
“Okay,” said Taraka amiably.
Her face shone with sincerity. It was the same face she usually presented to Yakone, and he definitely should have been angry about that. But he couldn’t seem to manage it. Worse: somehow, it was almost … endearing? Just Taraka being Taraka. Well, he reminded himself, there was no point in losing his temper over it. Getting angry at Taraka for lying was like getting angry at the sun for rising in the east.
Noatak forced himself to scowl at her. “Listen, Taraka. I’m not your property.”
“I know that!” He thought her earnest look might be real, this time.
“And I especially don’t need you to scare off some girl from the village who can’t even bend properly, even if she was spying on us.”
“Spying,” Taraka repeated.
His eyebrows went up. “Well, what else?”
She actually snickered. “Seriously? You can’t tell?”
“What are you talking about?”
“She li-ikes you,” Taraka sang out.
“Don’t be stupid.”
“I’m not the one being stupid,” she said, tossing her hair back. Noatak’s eyes narrowed and he instantly melted a pile of snow and splashed it in her direction. Taraka, still grinning, danced out of the way. “Think about it. If she came to spy on you because she’s guessed the truth, shouldn’t she be just as glad to spy on me? She definitely didn’t want me there.”
“But she said she’d been asking questions—”
“About Dad? Me? Or just you?” She slanted him a sly glance. “What sorts of questions, anyway?”
“She said she’d been asking my name, and ... well, I don’t know what else,” said Noatak.
She just looked at him.
“Oh, fine,” he said crossly, thinking through the bizarre conversation. That actually did make a bit more sense. He could feel his cheeks starting to heat. “But if you weren’t worried about her spying, then why—”
Taraka grimaced. “I don’t like her, that’s all.” She stared at the ground, apparently fascinated by the snow underfoot.
“You’re jealous?” said Noatak, not quite able to keep the incredulity out of his voice. Their father had preferred him all their lives—even in the beginning, though of course it’d gotten worse in the last few years. Yakone had been constantly, unfavourably comparing Taraka to him for almost as long, practically holding him up to her as an idol. Yet she’d only ever seemed grateful that Noatak stood between her and the full glare of Yakone’s demands. Jealousy was about the only emotion he hadn’t seen from her. It just wasn’t her.
“No,” snapped Taraka, though her skin was reddening. “I just don’t—who does she think she is, anyway, asking for private lessons? She can’t even waterbend properly. And she’s stupid besides. She’s not good enough for you!”
This was so near Noatak’s opinion on the subject that he didn’t know whether to be gratified or disconcerted.
“And imagine what Dad would do,” she went on, “if he found you wasting time with a girl when you could be bending.”
“I was bending,” said Noatak.
Zianka had vanished entirely by the time Yakone stepped back out of the tent. Noatak could only hope he hadn’t seen her on his way in.
The next few days passed unremarkably enough. Their father didn’t mention the forbidden fraternization—and with a lowly healer, too! He seemed just the same as always. Noatak shrugged the whole business off; he couldn’t tell what Taraka thought about it. She kept her face blank of anything but agreeable compliance around their father, and her heart and lungs told him nothing in this matter. Even bloodbending had its limitations, though Yakone would never see them.
Almost a week later, Taraka was dutifully attacking Noatak’s liquid shield when their father walked out to oversee them. Neither sibling faltered. Noatak kept pouring water into his shield; Taraka only increased the number and speed of the ice chunks she was hurling at him. He could scarcely see her through the obscuring water—he’d have to find a solution to that—and caught the blurry twist of one of her hands just in time to dodge a whip slashing under the shield and take hold of it before it curled around his ankles.
“That’s enough,” Yakone said. Noatak waited the second it took Taraka to lower her hands, then let the shield slosh to the ground. “Excellent work, Noatak. Taraka—”
Noatak felt, rather than saw, her brace herself.
“You’re making progress. Picked up some tricks from your friends, eh?”
Confusion briefly replaced her default expression. “My what?”
“We don’t have friends,” Noatak said, equally puzzled. Then his face cleared. “Oh, you mean what’s-her-name, the girl who came by last week? She wasn’t here for Taraka.”
His father’s pale eyes turned to him, narrowing. Before either could speak, Taraka interjected,
“We didn’t know her. She’s just some healer.”
“She showed up out of nowhere while I was practicing. We told her to go away,” said Noatak. “She wanted me to teach her our waterbending, or something.”
“As if some village nobody could learn what we know,” Taraka said contemptuously. The angry disdain in her voice and face seemed very real.
Yakone studied them for a moment; then, to both siblings’ astonishment and concealed alarm, he burst out laughing, clapping Taraka’s shoulder.
“That’s my girl,” he said. She blinked. “Looks like both of you are just about ready to try your luck in the city. We’ll go hunting this weekend. There’s one more technique you’ve got to practice. If the two of you manage that, I’ll send you south this season.”
He strode back into the tent. Noatak and Taraka stared after him, dumbfounded, then at one another. Even just a few months earlier, they might have been cautiously optimistic at the sudden opportunity. As it was, each saw their own horror on the other’s face.
“Did you ever think he’d let us go early?” she said finally.
“No.” Noatak folded his arms. “I always said you were advanced for your age, but not … honestly, I figured he likes making you cringe too much to let you go a day before he needed to.”
“Me, too,” said Taraka, unperturbed by his description of her. “I guess he doesn’t want to wait any longer for his revenge. He is getting older.”
“Maybe.”
She bit her lip. “Do you think it’s going to be awful?”
“Yes,” said Noatak. He didn’t elaborate. “Just remember—everything.”
“I’ll try.”
He gave her a cold look.
“I mean, I will remember.”
“I don’t care what he’s planning. This is our chance. If we can get through this last thing, we’ll be out of here, forever. Three years earlier than we expected, too.” He paused, his gaze as fierce as hers was solemn. “Don’t mess this up.”
Taraka nodded. “I won’t,” she promised.