I woke to people moving in the camp. Footsteps pad across the dirt. More movement. I hide curled against Appa. He seems to get my needs somehow instinctively, and Aang didn’t seem to mind since I don’t have a bedroll.

  Steps again. I just stare at the sky. Cat’s absence sits on my chest heavier than Appa ever could. Today will hurt. I ignore the thought, shoving myself to my feet.

  The smell of food cooking wafts towards me, and I drift towards the fire and plop down.

  “Look who finally decided to get up,” Sokka says.

  I don’t respond, but Katara throws a pebble at him.

  “Hey! What was that for?” Sokka complains.

  Katara just glares back.

  “Lev?”

  I turn towards the sound of my name. Aang is staring at me, looking like he’d just committed a crime.

  Bursts. He was going to tell me they couldn’t help anymore. That they had their own problems. That I was too much. That Teorin—

  Teorin wasn’t too much. I could push. I could—

  But this wasn’t their battle. “What?” I say, forcing my voice to stay level.

  Aang bites his lip. “We were all talking, and we want to help you. We really do, but…”

  I flinch. “But you can’t,” I say softly.

  Katara cuts in. “That’s not the plan, Lev. We have our own problems. Aang needs to train with Toph, but Sokka and I are going to go to the village we saw to ask about Teorin. You can come.”

  I glance up surprised. Aang still looks a little miserable. “I know I said that I would help, but…”

  I blink, then force a smile. “You are helping. No worries. Do your thing.”

  “You don’t have to lie,” Aang says softly.

  I freeze. Cascades. This kid is trying to help me, hurting because he can’t, and he thinks I’m lying. For a moment, I break a little. I surge forward and pull him into a hug.

  He stares at me in shock. I hold back a shiver as relief floods me from the contact. Cat is gone. Teorin is gone, but there are still people. Maybe… maybe things will be okay.

  “I’m not lying, Aang. You’re doing enough.” I pull back from the hug. “Searching aimlessly isn’t going to help anyone. You train. We’ll scope out the village. Efficient.”

  “You’re sure?” Aang asks hesitantly.

  “Absolutely.”

  Katara gives me an approving glance for once. That hits harder than I expected. I turn to her. “So, where is this village?”

  She purses her lips. “Eat first, then we’ll go.”

  I nod, dropping to the ground, and dig into the oatmeal-looking stuff that she passes me.

  The streets are wrong. Too quiet. A place like this should have carts rattling, kids shouting, shopkeepers calling out. Instead, shutters slam as soon as we appear. A broom pauses mid-sweep, then vanishes indoors.

  Katara’s mouth tightens. “They’re afraid.”

  “Classic Fire Nation intimidation tactics,” Sokka mutters. “Burn a few fields, scare a few families, and suddenly no one will look you in the eye.”

  I spread my arms wide as another door bangs shut. “Wow. Usually people ignore me after I start talking. Guess I’ve leveled up.”

  Sokka snorts. Katara doesn’t.

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  We take turns. Katara tries first, soft-voiced with a fruit seller. “Please. We’re not here to cause trouble. Have you seen Fire Nation soldiers nearby?”

  The woman flinches like Katara just threatened her, scooping up her basket and hurrying inside.

  Sokka tries with a cart driver. “Blue mask. Scarred soldier. Ring any bells?”

  The man doesn’t even look at him. Just keeps walking.

  Sokka’s jaw tightens. “Unbelievable. Do they all suddenly forget how to talk?”

  “Step aside,” I say, brushing past with a grin. “Time for the professionals.”

  Sokka sputters. “Professionals?”

  I don’t bother answering. Instead, I wander up to a stall where a girl my age is stacking clay pots. She freezes when I lean casually against the counter, smile easy and warm.

  “Nice work,” I say, brushing a speck of dust off one pot. “I’d buy half your stock if I weren’t broke.”

  Her eyes dart nervously. “We… we don’t sell to outsiders.”

  “Ah,” I lower my voice, leaning closer, “but maybe you’d make an exception? Just for me.” My grin sharpens. “Promise I won’t break anything, except maybe hearts.”

  A flush creeps up her neck. She glances around like someone might scold her, then blurts, “What do you want?”

  “Nothing much,” I say smoothly. “Just a story. I’ve heard whispers, rumors, really. Something about an Airbender? You haven’t heard anything more, have you?”

  Her hands still over the pots, knuckles white. One wobbles near the edge, and before she can snatch it, I steady it with my palm, fingers brushing lightly against hers. Just enough contact to for her to feel it.

  And to make her breath hitch.

  “Careful,” I murmur with a soft smile. “Wouldn’t want your work to shatter.”

  Her cheeks flush crimson. She swallows hard, then finally whispers, “Some men came through the other night. They said… they said they found someone in the woods. A Firebender with an Airbender tied up like his prisoner.”

  My chest clenches, but the smile doesn’t falter. “Go on.”

  Her eyes dart nervously toward Katara and Sokka, then back at me, as if she can only say it to me. “The Fire Nation princess. Azula. She’s hunting.”

  Katara stiffens instantly at the name.

  “And… machines,” the girl adds, voice trembling, eyes wide. “Iron machines, rumbling through the forest. Chasing the Avatar.”

  I ease the pot back onto the counter, letting my fingers linger for just a second before pulling away. Then I straighten, grin snapping back into place like armor. “See? Not so hard. You’ve been wonderful. Really. If anyone ever says otherwise, you send them to me.”

  She ducks her head quickly, cheeks blazing, fumbling with another pot to hide her shaking hands.

  Katara is staring, eyes hard. I give the girl one last smile and retreat.

  We are barely past the last building when Katara snaps. “This isn’t a game, Lev! Teorin could be in those woods, and you’re—” She cuts herself off, but the disgust in her voice lingers.

  Sokka throws his arms up. “I get ignored, Katara gets brushed off, and you bat your eyelashes for thirty seconds and suddenly we’ve got a full intelligence report?”

  “Don’t hate the player,” I say lightly, dusting my sleeve. “Hate the game.”

  Katara’s glare sharpens. “Or maybe hate the way you treat people like pawns.”

  The grin holds, but it’s brittle now. “You think I don’t know what’s at stake?”

  Silence crashes down heavier than the shutters. We keep walking to where we left Appa. I hate the silence, but I can’t bear to fill it either.

  The forest path crunches underfoot, Appa’s distant rumble somewhere ahead. Sokka grumbles something about being ignored. I hadn’t expected him to be so sore about that. Should I apologize? But… what exactly was I supposed to apologize for? I didn’t regret it. Not if it brought Teorin back, and we each had our own skill sets.

  I continue down the path one foot in front of the other. No one says a word. If I don’t fill the space, the memories will. And I’m not in the mood for those. In fact, I can already feel the itch beginning to claw at me: the feel of Cat’s fur under my fingers, a million touches layered on top of each other.

  My arm throbs. The burn is mostly healed, but the memory isn’t.

  Cat. I need Cat or Teorin or anybody. But there’s no one. I shove the memories back as hard as I can. They don’t go away.

  Silence. Silence is bad. It feels worse than bruises, so I whistle, grin plastered back on.

  Katara watches me for a long time before finally saying, low but sharp, “How do you do that?”

  I glance over, grin still in place. “Whistle? I think for most people it’s just practice.”

  Her eyes flash. “Last night you were crying in the woods.”

  The grin falters, just for a beat, then reforms brighter. “Yep. Like I said, congratulations. Collect your prize. It’s just not a very good one.”

  “No.” She speeds up to fall into step beside me, her voice steady but shaken. “You don’t get to laugh it off. You—” Her breath stumbles. “You were shaking. You couldn’t even breathe. And now you’re… this. Smiling. Touching strangers. Acting like nothing happened.”

  My chest tightens. I force the grin wider. “That’s the trick, Katara. People like this version. The other one? Not so much.”

  Her brow furrows, unsettled. “Which one is real?”

  I shove my hands into my pockets, eyes fixed on the trail. “Both. That’s the problem.”

  Silence presses in, heavier than all the trees stacked up.

  Finally, I throw the mask back on full-force. “Anyway, got us what we needed. Airbender. Princess. Tanks. You’re welcome.”

  Katara stares, torn between anger and pity, but says nothing.

  Behind us, Sokka mutters, “Still don’t know why she talked to him.”

  I huff a laugh, light and careless. “Perks of the jawline, I guess. Strangers spill secrets, and nobody actually sees me. It’s like I’m invisible. Almost a second superpower. I’m just a pretty face.”

  Sokka mutters something under his breath, unwilling to give me the satisfaction of a real comeback.

  Katara doesn’t laugh. She keeps watching me. Not the jokes, not the grin, but the space where the boy from last night should be.