Aang trudges down the path to the river. Lev and Teorin had been gone too long. Had he been too much? Teorin seemed okay with the hug, but was he not? Had they left?

  He scans the trees, but there is no sign of them. Then he smells the smoke. The acrid scent of something burned. Aang sprints forward.

  No one is by the river, but the trees are broken. Aang’s breath catches. The portal core Teorin was working on sits flashing in a puddle near the river.

  Aang snatches it up holding it tightly to his chest. Teorin wouldn’t have just left this. A line of singed branches is enough to show there was a fight.

  “Teorin?” Aang calls. “Lev?”

  No answer. He debates running for help, but what if they are hurt? Hesitantly, he walks into the woods, ready to bolt, following the path of destruction, and there lying among the leaves with a wicked burn on his arm is Lev.

  Aang’s stomach clenches. “No.”

  I come to slowly, the world tilting, my arm a raw throb of heat. Voices cut through the fog first.

  “…if you hadn’t stomped off, maybe we could have—” Katara’s voice, sharp.

  “Oh please,” Toph snaps back. “Like you had some brilliant plan while he was getting roasted?”

  “Better than rushing in blind!”

  Their voices climb, heat prickling sharper than my burn. My head pounds with every word until I can’t take it anymore.

  “Hey,” I croak, forcing my eyes open. “Could you… maybe not scream directly into my concussion?”

  My head feels split open, my arm is a steady throb of heat, and for a moment, it feels like I am being burned all over again. Stupid perfect memory. I can’t tell which wound is real. Fire, pain, memories—too many at once. I shove them down hard.

  “You’re awake,” Katara says, leaning over me.

  The camp. The Gaang. But not Teorin.

  I sit up too fast, and pain lances through my arm. Katara pushes me back. “Don’t move. You’re injured.”

  Her water glows as it flows across my skin. Cool relief numbs the burn, but the touch drags other pain with it, old and jagged. I grit my teeth, refusing to let it show more than a twitch.

  Sokka’s voice cuts in. “You gonna tell us what happened? Because when we found you, you were down, and Teorin was gone.”

  I swallow. “It was… a guy in a mask. Blue. Moved like a soldier, but faster. Swords. Clean strikes. I fought him off for a while, but then—” I glance at my bandaged arm. “Then he started throwing fire.”

  Aang stiffens. His staff clatters against the ground as his hands ball into fists. “The Blue Spirit.”

  The others look at him, startled.

  “I’ve seen that mask before,” Aang says, eyes hard. “It’s Zuko. He’s following us again.”

  Katara’s expression sharpens instantly. “Zuko took Teorin?”

  “He’s not keeping him,” I rasp, chest heaving.

  The fire crackles between us. For the first time, none of them argue with me.

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  The fire pops loudly.

  Sokka breaks the silence first, rubbing the back of his neck. “So… just to be clear. You sword-fought the Fire Nation prince. Alone. With no bending. And you’re still alive.” He squints at me. “That’s either impressive or stupid. Probably both.”

  Toph snorts. “Both. Definitely both, but he’s not lying.” She tilts her head toward me. “Sounds like he really means to get the guy back.” For once, there was no smirk in her voice, just respect.

  Aang looks at me, worry shadowing his face. “Why would Zuko take Teorin?”

  I bite my lip, staring into the flames. “When we first met, you thought Teorin was an Airbender. Are Airbenders… important?”

  The silence stretches.

  Aang swallows hard. His voice is quiet, almost fragile. “They’re… gone. All of them. Except me.” He looks away, shoulders hunched. “That’s why when Teorin… If Teorin really were an Airbender, he’d be the only one left. Besides me.”

  Katara’s jaw tightens. “Zuko would know that too. The Fire Nation would think he’s been in hiding.” Her eyes flick to me, sharp. “And if he’s not an Airbender, Zuko doesn’t care. He just thinks he is.”

  Sokka lets out a slow breath, rubbing his chin. “So either way, Zuko thinks he’s caught an Airbender.” He grimaces. “That means he probably won’t kill him. More likely he wants to know where he came from. If there are more.”

  Toph crosses her arms. “Or he just wants him as bait. If this Zuko guy wants you, Twinkletoes, then if he waves Teorin in front of you, you’ll come running.”

  Aang’s hands tighten around his staff, but his gaze keeps darting to me, like he isn’t sure which scared him more, losing Teorin or how much I clearly care.

  I shoot him a pleading look.

  Aang’s expression softens. “Of course I would. I can’t let him suffer because of me.”

  Katara’s eyes flick to my face like she is trying to read the person underneath the mask. Finally, she exhales and turns toward Aang. “You’re not the reason Teorin’s in danger. Zuko is.”

  The fire pops again, and all their faces are lit in the glow: worry, anger, determination.

  I sit there, throat tight, staring into the flames. “Then we’d better get him back before Zuko decides what to do with him.”

  Far from Lev's fire, Teorin wakes to a pounding headache. Something is digging into his wrists. Bursts, had Lev—

  The river. A mask. Teorin squirms, and the ropes bite deep into his wrists, coarse fibers digging into skin. Something digs into his back. Bark. A tree?

  No, no, no. He can’t—The portal core. What if they never get home? What if—

  Breathe!

  Teorin forces himself to inhale. He exhales slowly, then again, forcing his breath to steady.

  He opens his eyes, blinking. Bursts, his head hurt. In front of him is a fire, and across from him? A boy a few years younger than him, probably Lev’s age. His dark hair is cut short, and a wicked scar covers one side of his face. Teorin had seen scars like that before. A burn.

  Even so, the boy’s golden eyes are narrowed and unyielding. And by his side… Teorin flinches. A blue mask. That was the last thing he remembered before going under. He sucks in a breath.

  Lev.

  Teorin glances around. It makes his head spin a little, nausea flaring in his stomach. Not good. That probably means a concussion.

  Focus! Lev was behind him while they were walking, but Lev clearly isn’t in this clearing. Panic tightens Teorin’s chest, but he forces it down.

  The boy on the other side of the fire shifts, and Teorin’s gaze snaps back to him. “You’re going to tell me what you are,” the boy says, voice low but firm.

  Teorin meets his stare, as pain shoots through his head again. “I’m no one. Just a traveler who got lost.”

  “I saw you,” the boy snaps, leaning forward. “The way the air moved around you. You’re an airbender.”

  Teorin’s jaw tightens. This is bad. The way Aang talked about Airbenders… someone clearly didn’t like them. Enough to commit genocide. This boy didn’t seem like the friendly type.

  “It isn’t bending,” Teorin finally gets out. “I manipulate pressure. It’s not… whatever you think it is.”

  A flame appears in the boys hand, and Teorin flinches. Firebender. The people those kids had been afraid of.

  “Don’t lie to me,” the boy says as the flame in his hand grows larger.

  “I’m not lying.” Teorin’s tone sharpens.

  The boy glares, his expression full of suspicion and maybe… desperation? “You don’t understand. The Avatar is supposed to be the last. If you’re another airbender, that changes everything.”

  The kid is right. He knows he doesn’t understand, but it was becoming clear that he’s in trouble. “I’m not,” Teorin says flatly. “I’m not from your world at all.”

  The words hang in the smoke between them. The boy’s eyes narrow. Teorin doesn’t let himself break his gaze, just stares back.

  “Then what are you?” comes the quiet words.

  Teorin lets out a breath through his nose, almost a laugh but without any humor. “Just someone who is lost.”

  For a long moment, silence stretches. The only sound is the fire’s steady hiss.

  Finally, the boy growls, shoving to his feet. “You’ll talk sooner or later.”

  Teorin doesn’t look away. “Or maybe you’ll finally listen.”

  The boy stiffens at that, eyes hardening, but he doesn’t answer. He turns his back to the fire, the mask glinting as he pulls it on again.

  The flames die down to embers. Teorin sits back against the ropes, wrists aching, heartbeat steady. He doesn’t know how long he can keep this kid at bay. But he knows one thing: he won’t break first.