Chapter Text
Long ago, when the world was a little newer, after humans divided themselves from spirits but before they divided themselves into four nations, there was a girl named for the moon.
Yue wasn’t supposed to live, you see. Her mother wasn’t supposed to be able to bear a child at her age. Throughout her pregnancy, the city’s healers sensed that something was wrong with the child, and warned her mother that the baby wouldn’t live. But Yue’s mother dreamed night after night that the moon was watching over her unborn child, and that he would continue to do so her entire life. So she named her baby Yue in his honor.
Sure enough, under the glow of the full moon, little Yue came into the world. She was a miracle to her parents, even as her mother succumbed to the effects of the difficult birth. As Yue grew, she was always a little smaller than the other children, always a little slower, a little quicker to tire. But her father cherished her. The other children left her behind–not out of cruelty; children need to run and Yue couldn’t keep up–and her father stayed behind with her. He taught her how to track and trap animals, how to thank them for giving their lives and how to turn them into beautiful clothes. He told her stories of her mother so vivid that Yue felt like she knew her.
Her father told her stories, too, of spirits. She listened wide-eyed to the tales of the monsters who roamed the wilds thousands of years ago, preying on humans who wandered from the safety of their lion turtle guardians, until the first Avatar banished the spirits to their own realms.
Her people, though, always had the protection of the moon and the ocean. The first humans to learn waterbending from the moon had guarded his spirit and his sister’s in exchange for their knowledge. Even after they and the other water-folk of the world gave up their power in exchange for the lion turtles’ protection, a few sages kept the secret of the spirits’ location.
“What did the moon and ocean do when the Avatar banished the spirits?” Yue asked one day.
Her father looked around, as if the Avatar himself might be listening. “Some spirits stayed behind,” he whispered. “They lurk in the dark corners of the world, doing good or doing evil depending on their mood. Spirits don’t see good and evil the way we do, you know,” he informed her. “To a spirit, the greatest good is balance.”
Yue didn’t understand what her father meant by that. But she nodded like she always did when he shared his wisdom.
Eventually Yue was old enough to get married. She had grown into a beautiful young woman and there were many beautiful young men who wanted her to be their bride. But Yue had no interest in any of them. She was about to settle for the most talented hunter when two strangers, a brother and sister, came to her city. They had traveled from a faraway land where they said water-folk lived with earth-folk, air-folk, and fire-folk all together as one. Yue fell in love with the man and kissed him under the full moon. She didn’t need her father’s permission to leave with her chosen husband, but she asked anyway and he gave her his blessing. Sokka was a good man, and Katara would be a good sister. Yue would be happy in this strange new land where the earth was soft and the sun was warm, and the snow melted each spring.
And Yue was happy. Every night she looked up at the moon and thanked him for her happiness.
Yue and her husband and his sister–now her sister too–didn’t have much in their small cottage at the edge of their village. But they had each other. They made friends. They made a living. They carved out a peaceful existence for themselves in a country where all around them brewed trouble.
Before there were four nations, the world’s largest continent was home to dozens of small kingdoms. Some were mostly earth, fire, air or water-folk, but others, like the kingdom Yue now called home, were a mix. To the east, a kingdom ruled by an earthbending dynasty had attacked and conquered several neighboring kingdoms, forcing out anyone who they felt didn’t belong in their grand new “Earth Kingdom.”
Yue’s new home country began offering aid in the form of supplies, then weapons, and eventually troops. But before long, they were fighting off the Earth Kingdom’s army at their own border. It was then that the call went out for any young men who hadn’t left already to join the army and defend their home. No pleading and no prayers could stop the war from taking Yue’s husband away from her. Sokka promised he would return–he’d always been a pessimist, and yet here he was promising something he couldn’t possibly guarantee.
Almost a year later, the news came that Sokka was missing in action, presumed dead. The wife and sister he’d left behind didn’t have time to grieve. Between surviving on the work of two people rather than three and the scarcity created by the war, Yue and Katara had fallen deep into debt. It didn’t help that Katara was inclined to give what little they had to those who were even worse off than they were. Yue couldn’t resent her for that, any more than she’d been able to resent Sokka’s moods or his bad jokes.
Hope came in the form of a poster warning the villagers of the dangers of rogue spirits and offering a reward for anyone who could capture or kill one. Which is how Yue found herself in the forest with Katara, tracking the trail not of a cat deer or pheasant hare like she usually was, but that of a spirit.
“How do you even catch a spirit?” Yue had asked when Katara made the suggestion.
“Spirits leave signs that they’ve passed through just like animals do,” Katara replied.
The monk they had asked for advice, an airbender named Aang, had begged them to reconsider; spirits are dangerous and best left alone. But he understood the desperate times they were in, and the charity of his order could only go so far to help them when they themselves could barely keep themselves fed.
“You always have a home here at the temple if you want,” Aang reminded them.
Katara and Yue declined, as they always did. So Aang told them what to look for: unusual plant growth, strange animal behavior, and something called “spiritual energy” that only the most enlightened could detect.
Three hours into their hunt, Yue and Katara had nothing to show for their efforts.
“Well you can’t expect to find one after just a day,” said Katara. She noticed Yue leaning against a tree and asked, “Are you getting tired?”
“I’m fine,” Yue snapped.
“Are you sure? We’ve been walking for a while now. It’s okay if you need a rest.”
Yue sighed. Of course it was okay with Katara if she needed a rest, but it wasn’t okay when they were on the brink of indentured servitude. It wasn’t okay when they could lose their cottage with its garden and its memories of Sokka. “I’m really okay,” said Yue, more gently this time. She stood up straight and let go of the tree, shifting her weight instead to the walking stick she was using in place of her normal cane.
Yue looked up at the sky. “We have a few hours until dark. We can probably keep looking for another hour before we call it a night.”
Katara hesitated for a moment, but she nodded in agreement.
Just a few minutes later, they heard rustling in the distance. Yue readed her bow and arrow; Katara readied her bending water. Through the trees, they saw a group of hunters moving quickly and noisily across the forest floor. Yue and Katara took cover and watched them. Most were women, but some were men who must have found a way to avoid conscription–not a difficult feat for someone with enough money or power.
“It went this way!” one of the hunters called, leading the group onwards.
“You can’t outrun us forever, spirit!” another jeered.
Yue looked over at Katara with widened eyes.
“No,” Katara said firmly. “It’s too dangerous.”
“But this might be our only chance to find one!”
“And have to fight them for it? It’s not worth it.”
“This was your idea,” Yue reminded her.
“And now it’s my idea to turn back and try again another time. Please, Yue.”
“If we run into trouble, we’ll turn right around,” Yue promised.
“Fine,” Katara groaned.
They followed silently in the path of the hunters for no more than 100 feet before a bright light began to shine ahead of them.
Yue looked wordlessly over at Katara, whose similarly wide-eyed expression told her that she agreed: it must be a spirit.
Katara pointed to signal Yue to go around the other hunters, who were discussing amongst themselves which kind of weapon to use. (For their part, Yue and Katara were armed with a net, as well as Yue’s bow and arrow and Katara’s bending.)
The two women snuck around the group of hunters to approach the light from the other side. But just as they grew close enough to see what it was, it vanished.
A scream came from the back of the group and everyone, including Yue and Katara, turned towards the sound. One of the hunters was clutching his face while a white aura glowed around him. Scales began to appear on his neck and arms. When the aura finally disappeared, his eyes had become wide and round and his lips were puckered like a fish.
Yue would have found it funny if she weren’t so terrified.
“We’re going home,” said Katara.
“Agreed.”
They turned to go back, only to see the white light pass in front of them again. Yue thought she saw the figure of a man in the light. She stepped back, tripping over a branch as she did and falling to the forest floor with a thud.
The eyes of each of the hunters turned towards them.
“What are you doing here!” one of the hunters called.
“We’re only checking our pheasant hare traps,” said Katara. “We don’t mean any trouble.”
“They’re trying to catch our spirit and claim the reward!” another hunter shouted.
“I thought I heard someone following us!” said another.
The light swooped back and gathered around the hunters’ leader. When scales appeared on the leader’s skin, she too began to scream.
“Come on!” urged Katara. She helped Yue up and held her hand as they made their way as fast as they could away from the hunters and the very angry and dangerous spirit.
A little while ago, they had crossed a river at a narrow point. The river lay in front of them now, but the crossing was much wider. Katara would be able to hold the current at bay just long enough for them to cross.
It was slow going across the slippery river rocks. Yue had left her walking stick and had to rely on Katara’s hand, which left Katara only one hand for bending the river water. Behind them, they could hear the shouts of the hunters in pursuit.
“You go ahead,” Yue insisted. “Hold the water while I cross.”
“No,” said Katara. “I’m staying here with you.”
Yue gave Katara’s hand a gentle squeeze at that.
“There they are!” a hunter shouted. Yue felt a rock hit her back. She would have slipped and fallen if not for Katara’s hold on her hand.
“We’re almost to the other side,” Katara assured her. She grabbed a hold of a tree root sticking out from the bank to steady herself and began to lift Yue up from the riverbed.
The next few moments–the arrow lodging in Katara’s shoulder, the rushing of water coming to meet them, the moment her grip on Yue’s hand slipped–all passed in a blur. The next thing Yue felt was the impact of the riverbed as the current slammed her into it, each blow causing her to suck more water into her lungs.
If Katara could find her in time, maybe she could save her. But with this current, it wasn’t likely that anyone would find her until it was too late.
The last thing Yue saw before losing consciousness was the face of a large, white fish with a black spot on its forehead, staring down at her with wide gray eyes.