The Code

Curses

Amon sank back against the frosted trunk of the tree, the breath ragged in his chest. He shut his eyes, struggling to still his beating heart. It still raced from lack of oxygen. A slow burn had begun to spread outward from his arm. He glanced down to see a dark pool of blood on his black sleeve. A low growl issued from his throat. Wounded, alone, half-frozen and exhausted, with the Avatar.

He glanced across the snow to where she lay, still curled on her side where he'd dropped her. Her eyes roved beneath her lids, and on occasion a soft whimper would slip from her parted lips. She looked so weak, lying there. So easy to crush.

A shiver ran through him, and he realized it would do him no good sitting there, waiting for his enemy to recover. His arm still burned where she'd gripped him to pull him to surface. He couldn't believe she'd had the gall to save his life. Better to have let him drown. But now here he was, indebted to her far deeper than could ever be repaid. He gritted his teeth. All of his cunning was telling him to end her right here and now, just stride across the clearing and slid his hands over her neck, slowly choking the life out of her...

But this was not how he wanted it to end. He wanted glory. Triumph. Closure. Not the silent murder of a helpless girl in the middle of the wilderness.

The Avatar shifted in her unconscious sleep, her hands tightening into fists against the snow. Her teeth banged together, an incessant chattering that grated like knives across his nerves. Another shiver shook his bones. He was soaked through, but he was far too exhausted to bend the water off himself. A move like that required sharp energy and focus. He struggled to his feet, and looked around for something to light a fire with. Several dry branches lay scattered over the ground. Grunting in pain each time he bent, he gathered them up, stacking them in a pile a few yards from the Avatar's prone form. He searched his pockets for the tinderbox he carried, then swore under his breath when he realized it would be soaked through and useless. His gaze turned again to the Avatar. Blast it all, he'd have to utilize her bending for this one.

Dropping to one knee in the snow, he reached out and clasped her shoulder in one rough hand.

"Avatar," he hissed. She didn't open her eyes. He shook her, none to gently. "Avatar, wake up, curse you, or we're both going to freeze."

Her brow creased in an unconscious grimace. He shook her again, lowering his voice to use her name. "Korra."

Her eyelids parted. Her lips, already blue from the cold, trembled as she formed a word. "A-Amon?" She shifted back from him, curling further into her fetal position. Her blue eyes shone with fear. "Don't hurt me."

He heaved an exasperated sigh and shoved the small dry branch into her hand, closing her fingers around it.

"As much as it pains me to ask," he growled. "We need a fire if we're going to stay alive."

Korra's eyes searched his face, wide and uncomprehending. "You... you want me to bend?"

He narrowed his eyes at her. "Unless you see another way to create heat."

Korra's eyes took on that old spark of defiance. "Why not just kill me now?" her words were slightly slurred, her lips thickened by the cold.

He glared at her, a small part of him wondering why he didn't do just that. He hardened his voice, intending to intimidate her into submission.

"This is not the showdown I anticipated," he said. "Now, can you make a flame, or shall I leave you here to die curled up in the snow?"

Korra struggled to sit up. Her face whitened with pain as her hand clutched her side. But she made no sound as she lifted the branch. Her eyes closed, tightening as she called upon her deepest reserves of energy. At first, he wondered if she'd be able to bend at all. In her weakened state, it might be well near impossible. But a golden flame danced across her fingertips, swirling up the branch and catching it alight. He felt a grudging sense of admiration simmer through him, before he beat it down.

He took the branch back from her, and she fell back to the snow, completely drained. He moved to the mound of dry branches he'd assembled, and dropped the flaming torch onto the pile. The branches crackled, then caught. He felt the heat roll across the snow in waves, welcome and life-giving. He settled himself beside the fire, stretching out his hands to warm them. He wondered fleetingly if he ought to move the Avatar closer to the flames. After all, in her drenched state, lying in the snow would surely lead to hypothermia.

He shouldn't bother. If she had been in his position, she'd have let him freeze. But a soft voice at the back of his mind whispered, And did she leave you in the river to die? Didn't she risk her life once to save yours?

Even as his mind rebelled, he felt himself getting to his feet, crossing the snow to lift her in his arms. She murmured in protest, but all the fight had gone out of her. He carried her the few yards to the fire and set her down a few feet from the heat. She shuddered in his arms, her face far too pale. He dimly wondered about the consequences that would follow if indeed, the Avatar died here, out in the snow with him. How would that reflect upon the Revolution? Would he be blamed? After all, he'd only meant to take her bending before, in a fair fight, in full view of his fellow Equalists.

The thought of his followers sent his mind into a brief state of panic. He and the Avatar had plummeted down the mountainside on ice-boards, covering ground far faster than any human feet. The must be at least a few miles from the cabin. Perhaps more, with the speed the river had carried them. The current had been swift .They could be anywhere from three to fifteen miles away from where they'd first fallen through the ice. The snow-blanketed tundra stretched for at least a hundred miles in either direction, nestling up against the cold blue mountains. Even if they began looking for him right away, with the sweeping white hills and the constant snowfall to hide their footprints, it might take his followers days to find him. A cold hand closed itself around his heart. If the Avatar had disabled his Equalists back at the cabin, who knew how long it would take for them to recover. He glanced at his young enemy, a sudden loathing curling in his chest. What if she'd killed them? He hadn't thought her so cold-blooded, but in her panic the course of action may have occurred to her.

The snow fell in light swirls around him, sticking to his hood and freezing his still-damp clothes. He felt his own teeth start to bang together. It wouldn't do to remain out here in the open like this. Even with the trees to shelter them from the cold north wind, the snow would slowly take its toll on their soaked bodies. He looked around, spotting a small dugout beneath a snow bank a few hundred yards away. It wasn't much, only a few meters deep, but beneath the overhang was dry ground. It would provide adequate shelter until he could regain enough strength to climb back up the hill with the Avatar.

He settled himself back near the fire, feeling every muscle in his body groan from the strain. He'd move them once he'd gathered as much warmth as he could from the fire. He didn't know if the Avatar would be able to bend again, and didn't want to waist the precious flame. Tucking his arms against his chest to conserve body heat, he shivered again. Silently, he began to curse. He cursed the snow, he cursed the cold, he cursed the Avatar. Most of all, he cursed himself, for ever allowing himself to fall into this situation in the first place.