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"Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars."
- Khalil Gibran
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With a sudden burst of hope, Tarrlok jumps up onto his two scabby feet, his eyes glued to the motorboat in the far distance. He rubs his eyes to be sure that this wasn't some kind of hallucination…to be positive that he is not going crazy or about to pass out from heat stroke. But the boat doesn't disappear. In fact…it gets even closer - so close, that Tarrlok can hear the prominent rumble of it's motor as it dances over the waves.
He begins to laugh hysterically, in complete shock that what he sees is really a boat. This could be their lifeline…their way out of here.
He waves his arms in large movements, walking out into the water until he is waist-deep. He ignores the pain the motion causes, crying out loudly and shaking his hands happily in the air.
"HELP! HELP US! HELP US! A BOAT, SPIRITS! IT'S REALLY A BOAT! NOATAK, A BOAT!" He cries and laughs, completely overjoyed as he walks out further into the water. His burned feet grind painfully into the gritty stones of the ocean floor, but his adrenaline and happiness numb it completely.
After a few minutes, the boat gets close enough for the passengers to communicate to Tarrlok, their own arms returning his desperate waving.
"…hold on, sir…! Stay right where you are…!" A man's voice calls out from the sleek white boat.
Tarrlok covers his mouth with his burned hands, breaking down into sobs again. But this time, he is completely hopeful, and the promising future with his brother seems possible once again.
The boat reaches the shore, the motor coming to a slow stop. A man drops it's anchor, watching the naked and dehydrated Tarrlok collapse to his knees in the deep, opaque blue water.
Tarrlok raises his arms above his head, his palms pressed to one another. He looks up to that horrible scalding light of the sun, thanking fate and the unknown forces of the universe for looking out for him and his brother. He doesn't know what on this earth he has done to deserve this answered prayer, but knows that Noatak deserves it more than anyone else right now. His own life is hanging in the balance by a thin thread, ready to break at any moment.
Tarrlok can hardly speak, dragging himself through the stinging ocean and over to the stopped boat. He feels his vision swirl and spin, almost sure he'll black out. He hears the foggy voices of people surrounding him. The voice of the man from before rings in his ears.
"…what a miracle we found you, sir…we had to drive by a few times to be sure that what we saw was real…sir…?"
Large hands grip Tarrlok's shoulders. He can't speak, as much as he wishes he could to thank this man. All he can do is cry, slurred and inaudible words spilling from his dried out and bloody cracked mouth.
"He's critically dehydrated…and…severely burned…all the way to the fourth degree, it looks like…god. Honey…we'll have to stop here for the night…"
A quiet woman's voice speaks in a frantic whisper, in words too quiet that Tarrlok cannot understand.
The man fixes back the tangled ends of hair that hang in Tarrlok's face, peeling back his eyelids and checking his pupils.
"…his life depends on it, honey."
...
A few hours pass, and Tarrlok's eyes slowly blink open. He is laying on his back in the sand, no longer in the water, where he last remembers being. He tilts his foggy head up, the orange and purple glows of the sunset reflecting off of his naked and scarred torso. He can see that a long pair of khaki trousers have been dressed onto his waist.
"…glad you are awake." A soft voice speaks to him. "…come…get something to eat."
A woman sits by a fire, preparing a meal of mooselion and with vegetables and potatoes. Tarrlok's stomach let's out a long gurgle, the smells unlike anything he has smelled in a long time. He carefully stands, stepping over to the fire and sitting across from the woman.
She is about middle aged, perhaps younger, her hair long and dark with several strands of grey streaked through it. A braid hangs on each of her shoulders, bangs framing her delicately aged features. Tarrlok admires that she is very beautiful, the glow of the flames reflecting in a stunning way off of her features and making her look like a detailed painting. She wears a light gray ankle-high dress that buttons all the way down to the skirt, and a noticeable bump extends from her abdomen. She must be pregnant, he assumes.
"I am Arna…" she smiles to him. "My husband, Damasa, is a doctor…we were traveling from the city to the Fire Nation for his medical research. We found you completely by chance…"
She hands Tarrlok a plate that is piled with steaming veggies and savory meats, along with a canteen of fresh, icy cold water.
"Don't worry about your friend…my husband is with him now. He should be just fine." Her grin is warm and pleasant, which makes Tarrlok feel reassured. What are the odds…a doctor, Tarrlok thought. Relief comes to him, and he knows that Noatak will be okay.
He will be okay…
"Arna…" Tarrlok stares deeply into her eyes, accepting the bountiful meal. "…I just want to thank you and your husband for stopping for us…I'm not sure that we would've made another night…" he frowns, beginning to hungrily devour the hot meal. The flavors make Tarrlok's tongue melt, the taste of garlic and butter coating his lips. He licks them happily, quickly creating a large dent in the hefty portions.
She shakes her head with a smile, lifting a hand from where it rests on her round belly. "You don't have to thank us, sir. We feel very fortunate to have found you both when we did."
A long moment of silence hangs in the air. A gentle wind whistles through the early evening, blowing through the overhanging palm trees.
"…what are your names, sir…?"
Tarrlok's eyes widen, feeling silly for forgetting to introduce themselves. But then he realizes that he and Noatak are very much wanted criminals, and giving out their names so easily could possibly get them sent to prison. If worse comes to worse, they could always somehow run away from the family, but Tarrlok and Noatak need this couple's boat and resources to feed themselves and get off of this godforsaken island. It is critical, so this all needs to be thought out very carefully.
Tarrlok chuckles, smirking to the pregnant woman before him.
"My apologies, Arna. I am Siku…and that is my brother…"
He pauses for a long moment.
"…Hiro."
She chuckles, her smile gentle. Her soft gaze meets with Tarrlok's.
"…it's a pleasure to meet you two."
...
Tarrlok spends the rest of the night chatting with the woman by the fire, while her husband, Damasa, stays with Noatak under the shelter. The younger sibling becomes increasingly more worried, as the time without seeing Noatak becomes much too long and somewhat unbearable.
Tarrlok sips the now lukewarm water from the canteen, wishing he could cool it under his fingertips.
"You've been awfully quiet for a while, Siku…" the pregnant woman moves closer to Tarrlok, her shoulder now brushing with his.
"I promise you…Hiro is going to be fine. As soon as my husband gives the word, you may go see him." She smiles reassuringly.
He swirls his thumbs over the smooth shiny metal of the canteen, deep in thought.
"…I know. I…just…have this awful knot…just…twisting in my stomach…" He raises his eyes to the bright full moon that hangs overhead. An icy wind sends a shiver up his spine, goosebumps forming over the undamaged skin of his back and arms.
"You must be chilly, sweetie…" the pregnant woman rises, stepping over to their supplies and unfolding a thick wool blanket and gently placing it around Tarrlok's naked torso. The night becomes even darker, the glimmering full moon eerily reflecting off the ocean's gently swaying waves. A light bubbly foam is pushed up the cold wet sand of the shore.
"…thank you, Arna." He smiles half-heartedly, curling up the blanket under his sensitive chin. He returns his eyes to the thriving fire, staring deep into it's warm orange glow and taking in it's comforting heat.
Arna takes a seat beside him again, watching him carefully.
"…I bet your wives miss you terribly…" she frowns.
Tarrlok's eyes widen.
"Uh…I-…I'm not married, Arna…neither of us are. Heheh…" A slight redness blushes on the unburnt skin of his left cheek.
"Oh…that's hard to believe…surely you must have a special woman in your life, Siku…" she leans in an inch closer to him, her eyes piercing into his, giving him a nearly uneasy feeling on top of everything else.
"…well-…" Tarrlok's blush intensifies. "…there's no one," he spoke coldly, his eyes drifting to the black foamy water.
Truth is…maybe there…is a someone. Someone he had loved for a long time. Someone who he at one time thought would love him back. But they are oceans apart…and it was only a dream. It's been ages since they'd seen each other, anyways…
…and their love was impossible.
Every night, he wrote a letter to her…knowing they wouldn't be answered. He feels ridiculous, having these feelings…and they aren't ones he would like to confront, unless he was truly ready to.
"I see…" Arna smirks, which is visible to him in his peripheral vision. Another freezing wind creeps up under the thick wool blanket, making him shiver. The night becomes chillingly silent, the mere crackle of the flames keeping it from being entirely muted.
A loud shriek is suddenly heard, making Tarrlok and the pregnant woman jolt up straight.
And that's when he hears a sickening…
…sshhck…sshhck…sshhck…
...
Korra cringed, the story taking too sharp a turn.
"Your brother…his limbs were…amputated…" Her stomach churned. She stopped Naga in her place, catching her breath. The house was now directly before them, the lights from the windows reflecting a yellowish glow onto their faces. "Why…why would they do that to him…was there nothing else they could do…?"
His head turned away from the light, his eyes shutting. His body began to shake and tremble, the sound echoing repeatedly in his head.
…sshhck…
…sshhck…
…SSHHCK…
...
"What's going on!? What is he doing to him!?" Tarrlok leaps up onto his feet, throwing the blanket aside. It lands directly beside the fire pit, threatening to be burned by it. Another shriek comes from the shelter, as well as the repeating sound of flesh being severed.
The woman rises appearing quickly behind him and gripping his bicep.
"…I wouldn't recommend-…!" She speaks frantically, trying to pull him back.
But Tarrlok ignores her words, pushing forward and reaching the shelter. He pulls back the palm leaf coverings, revealing the inside of the shelter.
Noatak lays in the tent alone on his back, yelling and crying out desperately in agonizing chokes…
…with his entire body is engulfed in a bright purple glow. The ends of his extremities and jaw bubbling and sizzle off into nothing with a horrible sound…
…SSSHHHCCKK…
Tarrlok stumbles back, screaming in shock. The violet glow suddenly melts off of Noatak's body in a quick and fluid movement, becoming a large dark spirit before their very eyes and pushing itself out of the shelter. The younger brother stumbles backward from the startling gust of force, the menacing yellow eyes of the spirit freezing him into shock as he hits the pale dusty sand.
A large shadow grows from behind him and the dark spirit, a low growl coming from it. Just as the dark spirit raises it's arm to slash Tarrlok, it looks up to the shadow, then before he even realizes it, it runs off. Tarrlok's body relaxes, in complete shock of the moment. He looks out to the calm ocean waters of the late night…
…to see two dark spirits running across the water, the beach left eerily silent. The fire pit is now a dead pile of burnt timber, the wool blanket that once covered his shoulders placed over it. And off the shore, the speedboat sits - anchored securely to it's place in the dark waves.
The family is gone.
...
...
The front door of the cabin opens, a figure's silhouette framed in the candlelight of the inside.
"Sir…cousin Korra…you've made it. They've made it…!" The male voice calls back into the cabin.
Desna?!
Korra is confounded, his appearance completely disguising him. He and Eska are here!? Then…Bolin really wasn't out on a date…Mako was right! And Unalaq…he lied…! What was the meaning of all this confusion!?
Tarrlok dismounts, Korra taking a long moment to stare at the cabin. He watches her carefully, extending a hand and helping the distracted Avatar off of her companion.
"Bend snow over the polar bear dog…we can't risk being found out…" Tarrlok pointed to the space beside the house.
Korra nodded hazily, leading Naga to it and getting her to lay down and doing as Tarrlok instructed by carefully bending a pile of snow over the dog's large build. Her wet black nose peeked out like a piece of charcoal, sniffing and twitching from the discomfort - not of the cold, but the fact that she had to keep incredibly still for the time being.
His eyes torched holes into Korra's back, making the moment unbelievably anxious for her as she settled Naga down. She turned back to him, her face completely flushed of color. He smiled, walking to the door and gesturing for her to follow him into the home.
She took a deep breath, feeling her chilled lungs expanding with the crisp, smoky air that swirled around the quaint log house. Korra squeezed her eyes shut, and one nervous foot after the other, stepped up the three creaky wooden stairs and pushed herself through the front door.
And the first thing her eyes laid on was the incredibly burnt and damaged version of someone distantly familiar…someone who had terrified her and haunted nearly every dream. The limbless Amon was placed on the couch, dressed in a thick parka and long cotton pants, all in which had empty sleeves. Under the shadowy hood of the furry parka, she could disturbingly see the left side of his jaw was completely missing, his tongue nearly hanging out of it. His eyes painfully met with hers, speaking with quiet, slurred words in a deep, raspy, and frightening voice that sent chills up her spine…
"…Avatar Korra…"
What was left of his face twisted into what Korra thought was something resembling…
…a smile.
...