((AN: And with this chapter, I officially end the Four Ghost Stories. :3 I hope you all enjoyed them, because they were quite fun to write...I loved diving into the possible folklore of the Avatar world, especially the days before bending and what the people of the different Nations would have been like.

I admit I had a hard time thinking of what an Air story would entail. At first I wanted to end on a spooky note, as this was originally a Halloween thing, but then I got to thinking about the Air Nomads and their way of life, and had the thought that perhaps it's best to end it on a more peaceful, mystifying kind of story. Plus, it comes with Kataang flufflies, which I know many of you love as well. ^^

So, that said, everyone enjoy the final chapter. :3

Mike and Bryan own the characters and concepts, I just play with 'em. I will not take undue credit. x3))

4

The time passed on slowly, and outside the night had grown so dark that it was almost black. All was quiet, and the slow blink-eyed lethargy that was the beginnings of sleep had finally started to fall upon the group. Even the ones who had claimed that they would never sleep again due to the spirit stories had admitted lacking the strength to sit up for much longer.

And so, finally, after nobody could come up with a good fable to end the night, the friends made their beds and crawled up from the floor, carrying their respective blankets and pillows with them. Aang put out the hearth with a blast of Airbending, and everyone said their tired good-nights as they felt their way to their beds in the dark.

It soon turned out that some of those beds wouldn't have occupants. All three of the couples had shared sleeping bags or bunked together many a time on their adventures, if only for the comfort of sharing warmth and comfort with the ones they loved; Toph hadn't minded being the only one on her own—she'd always relished it, as a matter of fact—but she did often remind the respective pairs to keep the noise level when everyone was together at a bare minimum. Tonight was no exception, but all were too tired to do much of anything but sleep, the boys resting with the bodies of their soul mates close as possible to them (the previous tale of lost love had seemed to have a sort of fearful effect on their hearts).

...At least, for a while, two of them tried to sleep.

Katara's eyes blinked open after a few hours, having not been able to fall into her dreams no matter how much she tried. She moved her head ever so slightly to look around the room, and found that she could see somewhat well due to the streaming moonlight from the windows...which she swore wasn't there before when blocked with the storm. It cast the room in a soothing, ethereal black-blue set of colors. Her head was otherwise resting on one of Aang's arms, her forehead upon his chest. As she heaved a short, frustrated sigh and tried to rest herself, she listened to him. His heartbeat was steady...his breathing wasn't, as it normally would be when he slept. Sometimes he snored, other times he was silent and soothing...now though, it was uneven. Puzzled, the Waterbender wondered if he was having a dream.

But as she comfortably shifted and wrapped an arm around to his back, his hand moved to lazily stroke her shoulder. "Can't sleep either?" he whispered near her ear, so softly that she thought only the two of them could hear.

"No," she affirmed just as quietly and shuffled back a little to catch his eyes. "Don't know why. I'm tired, but..." she yawned, "But, having trouble getting there. Why're you up?"

"Same thing," Aang shrugged shortly, playing with strands of her hair with his fingertips. "I dunno...I guess the spirit stories were a bit much to sleep through right away."

"They weren't even that scary," Katara said, somewhat perplexed. "They were like folklore. I liked them."

Aang hummed. "When Gyatso told stories, he always said that they were created with the same purpose; to stick with you in your mind. I guess it does the job."

She smiled up to him, and he smiled back. "I'd say so," Katara hummed and replaced her head where she had laid it, on his shoulder and facing the base of his neck. Her sigh was a feather touch against his skin. "I feel a little bad that we went to sleep without hearing a story from you though, Aang. We've had one from every Nation but yours."

He nestled his cheek in her hair and stroked her arm idly with his fingers. "Don't worry about it. I can tell all of you later, maybe."

"Okay," Katara sighed. A few more moments of comfortable silence passed, but sleep still seemed so far away. She had a gentle smile on her face, however, pulling herself closer to the Airbender as she enjoyed his touch. "I don't mind not sleeping just yet. Talking at night, all quiet like this...it's nice."

Aang blushed, and he was certain that she was, too, but the darkness offered little sight for either to notice. "It is nice. We should lose sleep more often."

Katara bit her lip, her smile quivering with unreleased giggles. "Aang, don't make me laugh right now," she chided.

"I wasn't even trying to," he smirked and kissed her forehead. "But really...we do need to sleep somehow."

Her reply was a slow nod. She thought for a while in the silence, watching dust motes dance around in the moonlit shafts from the window and make the air glitter.

"Well..." she finally breathed, "Can you at least tell me a story? I really wanna hear one from you."

He playfully flicked a few hair strands into her face. "Aren't you a little old for bedtime stories?"

"You read at night too, sometimes," she pointed out, nearly in a loud whisper, and received a light warning shush from him. Quieter, she added, "Please?"

He pretended to think, his face twisted comically into a grimace, before he sighed a laugh and nestled deeper into the blankets with her. "Alright...I've got a good one. Shouldn't be scary, either. It's one of our oldest spirit stories."

Katara smiled with sleepy anticipation. "Go on."

A long time ago, the islands that made up the different locations of the Air Temples weren't islands; they were a part of the other Nations, made up of the highest and most remote mountain ranges that connected to them. The land was harsh, and the air was always cold...but the mountain-dwelling wanderers who were to become the ancestors of the Air Nomads were used to it. They knew how to make homes wherever they moved, and just like they are today, they respected the land and all creatures and people within it, always seeking a common life of peace and prosperity.

But there was one thing that the mountain nomads envied, and that was the sight of the magnificent beasts that made their homes in the green and lush valleys; beasts which despite their great sizes could fly as swiftly as the wind. In another story as grand as this one, they learned how to tame the Sky Bison, and watched them to see how to bend the very wind to their will.

Air, however, was a very powerful thing to wield, and the Spirits saw that the nomadic humans wished for its control and dreamed of the possibilities. They needed to see if they had the control of themselves to fully embrace the element of Air and also to embrace what it had to teach...freedom and enlightenment. And so, one night, a message entered the dreams of the first Airbenders...a call from the highest mountain near the northernmost part of the world where land hadn't yet turned to ice.

Not many heeded these dreams...they were happy to live as they always had, as simple wanderers, with the Sky Bison to help them and their families to fly.

But one small family, parents with two children, had decided together to make the journey. They packed provisions enough for three trips, and their bison flew them to the high northern mountains...the highest of which stood so tall that even the bison could not reach the very peak. At the base, they hiked on themselves into a smooth but snowy climb. As they traveled, helping each other along the way, they wondered what kind of knowledge from the spirits awaited them.

They continued upward at a steady pace through one day. The night of that first day, they were surprised to come upon another group of people camping on the side of the mountain with nothing but an outcrop for shelter.

The other group looked ragged and starved. Their faces were gaunt and gray, and their bodies and clothes were caked with dirt and dust. They had neither food among them, nor sleeping bags and tents to protect them from the snow. The mountain nomad family thought that they had gotten lost. Many would have given them up for dead and left them to starve on that empty mountainside, for they looked ugly and hopeless.

But the father stepped up to them and extended his hand. "We have food and shelter to share," he said with kindness, "Join us around our fire and take as much as you need for the long journey back."

The starving people accepted the family's generosity, and ate to their heart's content...neither his wife nor the children worried that they would run out of food, for they could live for a while yet without it, and they all knew how much more these people needed a meal than they did themselves.

The first night passed. But when the family awoke, the starving people were gone. Not a trace of them had been found...no footprints in the snow or icy mud, no scraps of cloth...even the outcrop that they had used for shelter had vanished mysteriously. No evidence was found that they were ever there.

Mystified, but undeterred, the family pressed on for another day.

The second night, they found themselves on a large, flat plateau on the mountain's summit...there, they started to make camp, when suddenly there was a loud roar that echoed all around them.

Out of the shadows of the blinding wind, there came three lumbering white creatures about the size of the father, with gleaming sharp teeth and bodies balanced on muscular arms and knuckles. They were yeti-hounds, fierce mountain animals only heard of in legend.

Being a peaceful people, the nomads had no sharp weapons to fight such creatures off...each only had a long, hard wood staff that they used for herding and were usually enough to deter dangerous predators without hurting them. They took the staves and wielded them, defending when the creatures charged.

They weren't deterred by the staves. They kept charging, trying to find an opening when they could...the parents could only concentrate on protecting the children.

"The wind power!" the young boy cried. "We could use it to send them off the edge of the mountain!"

"No," the father insisted. "They are living creatures, and we have come upon THEIR land. They are defending themselves as much as we are from them."

"They have no such reservations," the mother pointed out. "If we stop fighting, surely they will end us."

"There must be a way," the father insisted. "The spirits called us here, so they must expect us to find it."

The second child, a daughter, then said, "Perhaps we can just use the wind power to move them out of the way. Then we run quickly."

Seeing that as the best option, they worked together to form a barrier of air and carefully blasted the animals away. As fast as they could, they took what they managed of their supplies and rushed up the mountainside.

When they could finally stop for air, they looked back to see that the yeti-hounds did not follow them, to their greatest relief. But they had only run a short distance...they heard no howling or growling in frustration, or attempts to chase, as they have seen of other creatures.

They only heard the quiet breeze upon the rocks. Again, no evidence that the yeti-hounds had ever existed.

"This place is strange," the mother admonished. "Should we even try to press on?"

"A message from the spirits should not be taken lightly," the father argued. "We press on for as long as we are able. But if the children wish, they can try to go back to the bison."

"We will come too," said the boy, and his sister nodded in agreement. As a family, they would continue.

The second night passed, and the nomads awoke to travel as far as they could up the mountain by daylight.

The third night came...and another obstacle lay before them. There was a giant crack in the ground, and the way across the fissure was too far away to jump to. There seemed to be no way for them to go but back, and the path was completely broken.

To make matters worse, the wind had picked up violently, threatening to push them all into the chasm with each step toward it.

"The spirits are surely trying to kill us!" the young boy shouted over the gale. The mother was inclined to agree with her scared children, holding them close.

But the husband kept his eyes over the chasm. "The spirits would not call us here without a purpose other than death, I am sure of it," he said. "The wind is very strong...perhaps we could use it."

"It is a leap of faith!" the clever young girl exclaimed. "We could use the tents and let the wind take us across."

The mother looked uncertain, sadness crossing her face. "I wish to believe you, but what if it does not work?"

"We must trust in the wind," the father said, softly but resigned. "If it is our fate, so be it. We already give what we must to the world, more than we take. We will give our bodies back to the mountain if that is how it should be."

So, all in agreement and all fear discarded, the mountain nomads built one large glider from their tent fabrics and staves. With the wind to carry them, the family leaped the edge of the chasm and easily flew across, never to fear height or death. They all embraced once they reached the other side, euphoric that they had made it and relieved that they were all together.

They camped on the plateau on the other side with what remaining supplies they had, and the third night passed. The next morning saw them reaching the high point of the summit, so high that breathing became nearly impossible. They debated on going back, but they had yet made it so far, their supplies depleted and not nearly enough for a trip back down...there was nothing left to do.

But just as they were faltering under altitude sickness, thinking that there could be no other choice but to give their spirits up forever more, suddenly the air whipped around their bodies and breathed life into them. They could stand in that high, unforgiving mountain as easily as they could on the ground, and they looked around in shocked amazement for whatever force had helped them.

And then, it materialized out of the wind. A grand image of a Sky Bison, one of the Air Spirits themselves. Its fur was as white as the clouds, and its arrow markings and eyes glowed with ethereal power blue as the sky. But, as fearsome as it looked, the energy around the great spirit was soothing and enlightening, calming the hearts of the small courageous family that chose to represent the entirety of the first Airbenders.

"You have done it, travelers," it boomed, "You have made it to the peak of the Mountain of Trials, as we spirits have foreseen."

"Trials?" the father echoed. "The mountain's obstacles were trials?"

"Yes," the spirit answered, its voice surrounding them with feelings of calming victory. "Each one was put there to test you on the characters that we wish to have every Child of Air possess:

"The starving, lost people tested your kindness and generosity, for the Children of the Air must have kind hearts and fondness for all mankind.

"The yeti-hounds tested your respect for life...Children of the Air must know the potential great danger they wield, the breath of life itself...wield it carefully and defensively if necessary, but know that to take a life would be a misuse of the spirit's gift.

"The chasm tested your courage and faith; faith in the spirits and in the air to guide you away from disaster, and courage to be able to focus patiently and use it, to let go of fear.

"And finally, all three tested the character of versatility and freedom...the ability and the choice to pass obstacles any way you see fit, just like the wind itself.

"With these tests passed, your family and your people have earned the right to wield the power of Air and learn the many ways to use it...only if you return to them and teach them to forever uphold these lessons."

Overjoyed, the family agreed, and returned to spread the word across the whole of the nomad nation. Their people heard them and heeded their words, though there were still some who were still content to go into the world as mere nomads.

Soon, the formal discipline of Airbending was set into motion. It was agreed that while many would still embrace the nomadic way of life that they so loved, there would be places of spiritual study and discipline for Air Nomads to gather, teach, and learn. These spiritual centers became the Air Temples.

Four Air Temples were constructed, one on each of the compass directions in the highest mountain ranges, and each in honor of one of the four family members...the Northern and Eastern for the father and mother, and the Southern and Western for the son and daughter.

The very site of the Mountain of Trials became the Northern Air Temple, and that is where the Air Nomads transcribed the history of their people, for the origin to be remembered.

Air Spirits guard each of those Temples even today. Travelers, when you walk or fly into our mountains, sharing our wind, they will always watch over you, and so will we.

"...The end," Aang finished in a soft, reverent tone of voice, his eyes closed as if in respectful prayer.

Katara was silent for a moment in awe, taking in the story she had just heard...a fable from the Air Nomads never heard again for a hundred years. Not until now, in the darkness of an inn room and a warm bed alongside the very last one.

"Wow, Aang..." she whispered, her thumb stroking the arrow mark on one of the hands she held. "That's an amazing story."

He opened his eyes and slightly shrugged. "I don't know if it measures up to the ones the others told...but it's one of my favorites from the Air Nomads. I'm glad I was able to share it with someone."

She smiled and held him close. "I'm glad too. I feel...I dunno, honored to be told the story, since I'm not even an Air Nomad."

He held in a short chuckle, kissing her cheek. "Well, you're special enough, and if the spirits disagree with me, I'll take their punishment for it."

She blushed, kissing him back on the lips and humming sleepily. "Are you going to tell the others the story too?"

He smirked in thought. "If they ask me to," he decided, playfully nuzzling the top of her head. "It's a secret tale, only known to you and me."

Katara had to snicker. She somewhat liked the sound of that, being the only one worthy of Aang's secrets, even if he'd owed the others the fourth story in a pattern of the elements themselves.

"Maybe tomorrow," he finally acquiesced with a loud yawn. "I think I can sleep now."

"Me too," the Waterbender echoed and followed him into a shared world of dreams.

Outside, the night was still, and the moon still shone in all of her splendor. The spirits of each of the children's stories kept watch over them that night, close by but still in realms far away...where so many other tales, many of which were forgotten in the time before bending, had been laid to rest.

Yue, smiling from her perch on the rooftop just above the window and remembering the same ones told to her as a child, could at least attest to the ones that were real.