The Winds of Change (14) Melting the Ice

The Winds of Change

14

Melting the Ice

“Are you sure this is going to work, Rukisha?” Smellerbee asked, straining to reach the next rung of the ladder as the weight on her back bore down on her.

“Hey, you’re the one who asked me for help,” you pointed out. “If you’re having second thoughts, I’m perfectly happy to call it quits.”

You concentrated on not falling off or having a heart attack, while Smellerbee climbed above you and Sneers grumbled below, carrying his own bag of supplies.

The three of you were on a mission, making the laborious climb up to one of the newly built platforms high in the forest canopy. Three months had passed since the battle, and since then there had been no sign of the Fire Nation. The tree village was at peace, and with most of the reconstruction over with, many of the Freedom Fighters were at a loss for what to do with all the free time they now had on their hands.

Smellerbee and Sneers, ever the venturesome ones, had roped you into their latest silly shenanigan.

It had taken a full day of pleading to convince you, but in the end you crumbled against their combined force of will. The two of them together were indomitable. You had to admit, though, that a little fun would be good for the group’s morale. They were all just kids, after all. You wouldn’t be doing this if you didn’t think it would make them happy.

You clambered up onto the platform, where you found Smellerbee sprawled out trying to catch her breath.

“This....thing....is heavy,” she complained.

“I told you it was too much for a little wimp to carry,” Sneers remarked, hauling himself up behind you. “You should have let me take it.”

Before Smellerbee could turn this into an all-out brawl, you planted yourself firmly between the two and said, “Okay, let’s focus now. We don’t have much time to do this, so are you sure we’re in the right spot?”

“Yep,” said Smellerbee. “This is Jet’s new place. I wonder why he hasn’t finished it up yet....”

There were a few blankets there in the middle, but the shelter itself was just a pile of wood and rope in the corner, waiting to be built. You wound a strand of your dark hair around your finger and bit your lip in thought. The idea was to hide several mild explosives around the site, all of them attached to tiny bags of red powder. Trip wires would be stretched across the platform, which, once triggered, would overturn the buckets of water hidden in the overhead branches. The effects would be remarkably funny.

“We’ll have to make sure Jet never finds out it was us,” you said, and your voice had a nervous edge. “He is not going to be happy about this.”

“Don’t be a ninny,” Sneers said as he came up beside you, but he bumped his shoulder into yours gently, in silent encouragement.

“Ignore him,” snipped Smellerbee. “We’re not going to tell anyone. It’s our necks on the line too!”

You looked around and took a deep breath. Well, there was no backing out now. You couldn’t help but feel a little excited as you opened the packs, grabbed a coil of wire, and began to unwind it.

“We’ve got fifteen minutes at the most,” you said, mischief growling inside you like an awakening beast. You almost felt like a kid again. “Duke and Pipsqueak are distracting Jet on the other side of camp, but we have to hurry. Now, we’ll need to string this wire through the gaps in the wood, so he can’t see them from any angle....”

*0*0*0*0*0*0*0*0*0*

It was your turn to help make dinner that night, along with Longshot, Sneers, Smellerbee, and Duke. Pipsqueak was excluded only because he had more interest in eating the food than preparing it. As with most things, even this simple activity was entertaining when your colorful group of friends was involved.

As the venison roasted on the spit and vegetable soup simmered over a separate fire, Smellerbee looked around at everyone and said randomly, “Hey, do you guys remember when Sneers used to be fat?”

This piqued your interest. “Sneers was fat?”

“I was not,” the boy in question protested.

“Was too,” Duke said, poking Sneers in the stomach. “You had more blubber there than a harbor seal!”

You tried to picture it, couldn’t, and settled for snickering at the boy’s thunderous expression. Sneers was far from obese; he was kind of short, but every inch of him was well-muscled.

“I do remember when you looked like a boy, though, Smellerbee,” he sneered.

The girl scowled. “I was going through puberty! It’s not my fault I wasn’t very girly!”

“Well, at that point, you could have swung either way....”

With a sigh, you flicked your wrist and a wall of fire roared up between the two, sending them sprawling backwards. “Let’s finish dinner before you guys kill each other,” you suggested. “If I have to do it alone, you’ll have to be satisfied with black and crispy.”

You looked back to the stew, only to find Longshot bent over it with a spoonful raised to his lips.

“Ah, thank you, Longshot,” you said sweetly. “You’re checking to see if it’s done?”

The tall boy’s sheepish smile turned into a look of pure mischief at your mock ignorance.

You had a flashback to your days in the army, when stealing food in such a manner was punishable by flogging. The beatings were never too harsh; just enough to make a man think twice before doing it again. You had wielded the whip a handful of times on your own soldiers out of necessity, although you made sure that your strokes were soft enough to never break the flesh. Your leniency toward punishment was part of what made your men so loyal to you.

“Hey, Rukisha? You there?”

A hand waved back and forth in front of your face and you snapped back to the present, looking down into Duke’s blue eyes.

“She tried to use too many brain cells and short-circuited,” Sneers explained. “It happens sometimes.”

“I was just....thinking. About before,” you admitted, feeling tired all of a sudden. Remembering your past, the life you had loved, always sapped away your energy just as it drained you of all good feelings.

There was a solemn silence, where nobody quite knew what to say. Then, a moment later, a loud shout split the night and everyone gave a startled jump. There were several small explosions, like the sound of balloons popping, and your friends exchanged smug grins. You leaned over the stew, stirring it calmly while the corners of your mouth tugged upward. This was going to be good.

It wasn’t long after the initial commotion that a thin haze of red descended from the treetops, spreading a coat of powder around the base of one of the tallest trees.

“Don’t get it wet,” you reminded the group. “At least, not while it’s on you.”

They all nodded with equally wicked expressions, which changed to innocent concern when a figure materialized out of the red haze.

A spontaneous burst of giggles erupted across the campsite, added to by the continuous stream of Freedom Fighters who had come to investigate the noise.

Jet was not happy.

He was scowling fiercely, hair plastered to his head as water streamed from the damp brown locks. And every inch of exposed skin was dyed a radiant red. You though he resembled a rather large cherry.

“Got a sunburn, Jet?” asked Duke, who, although giggling uncontrollably, kept his distance.

“I would like to know just who is responsible for this,” Jet said through gritted teeth, his face an unnaturally red mask of fury.

“He looks like an angry tomato,” you whispered to Smellerbee, who grinned and repeated the phrase to the girl next to her. As it passed down the line, somebody must have whispered too loud, because Jet’s crimson face creased in even more intense irritation.

You finally let loose the pent-up laughter you had been valiantly holding back. You couldn’t help it; in the state he was in now, Jet wasn’t intimidating in the least. You couldn’t summon an ounce of fear, which buoyed your spirits far more than the fact that he looked like a soggy vegetable.

Jet’s eyes softened when he saw your obvious joy, the sincere grin that was spreading across your face. All hostility drained out of his posture and an answering, reluctant smile formed on his lips.

“I’ll admit,” he told the snickering group, “whoever thought to use chili powder as a dye was brilliant.”
You silently applauded yourself for a job well done.

“Okay, so who wants to tell me how to get this stuff off? Jet looked around expectantly, and when all he got was an expanse of blank stares, his shoulders drooped.

Well....you couldn’t just let him suffer like this, could you?

Oh yes, you could.

“Tell him to take a tomato juice bath,” you whispered to Smellerbee, following it up with a wink.

She flashed an insidious grin and then hollered it out to Jet. His expression went totally deadpan, then indignant, and it was all you could do not to give in to the hilarity of it all.

Finally, brow puckered, lips turned downward, Jet said, “Everyone, get back to whatever you were doing. I’m off to....find some tomatoes.”

Some people might have felt sorry for him, but everyone joined in a delighted chorus of laughter that echoed through the hills and beyond.

*0*0*0*0*0*0*0*0*

It took the rest of the night for Jet to figure out that all he had to do was go jump in the river. He had scrounged up enough tomatoes to wash his face with, but when that didn’t help, common sense kicked in. He had spent the last hour hounding Smellerbee, who denied any responsibility for Jet’s predicament. The tomato juice was just an idea, she claimed. Jet hadn’t had to take her word for it.

Happy with the prank’s success, as well as the resulting delight of the Freedom Fighters, you were entirely satisfied with the day’s events. You did have to admit, however, that much of that satisfaction was derived from pulling one over on Jet. It was nice –oh heck, it was downright ecstasy – to have had the upper hand for once. But as great as you felt, you were in no hurry to try such a thing again. No, if you were going to survive this new life, you didn’t want to do anything to gain his attention. Nothing good could possibly come of it.

You were walking with Sneers just now, listening as he outlined a new training regimen he wanted to start in the upcoming month. His face was animated as he spoke, shifting expressions as rapidly as he moved his arms to demonstrate. If there was one thing Sneers was passionate about, it was fighting.

Just like Mizu.

That thought stopped you in your tracks, stole away your breath. When was the last time you had thought about Mizu, your dear, dear friend? How long ago had you forgotten about him, the one person you had ever let yourself get close to?

Sneers stopped ahead of you, looking back with annoyance that changed to alarm when he caught sight of your pale face, filled with horror.

“Rukisha?”

Yes, Sneers could be an exact replica of Mizu, a younger, much ruder clone of your friend. They had the same eyes, the same build, even the same personality.

There was an agony growing inside you like spreading poison, as the guilt you had been suppressing for all these months ripped free. It hadn’t taken long for you to come to enjoy life among the Freedom Fighters, to accept them as part of your new life. You had fallen into place with the utmost ease, becoming an entirely new person. It made you ill, made you nauseous to realize that you had found happiness among the enemy. What kind of sick person were you? How could you be happy when your best friend and comrades were dead?

“Rukisha, please, listen to me. Snap out of it!” Sneers’ voice had taken on a note of urgency.

It hurt so much, the guilt, the grief, the pain. But the self-loathing was the worst. Why had it taken so long for this to catch up with you? Invisible razors carved a bloody path through your chest, and your tattered heart quailed in agony.

“Hey, it….it’ll be okay,” Sneers tried, kneeling down beside you. He reached out tentatively and rubbed your back. At some point you’d sat down, hugging your knees defensively, head lowered. “Whatever it is, you can tell me or Smellerbee,” the boy continued. “We’re your friends. We’ll help you through it, no matter what. Alright? ”

You heard him from far away, but the words didn’t register. You were in too much pain to cry, your thoughts consumed with Mizu and all the others you had betrayed. Maybe you had repressed it all, the memories, the horror of that night when the forest had run red with blood: Mizu’s, your men, your own.

What was that noise? Ah, yes. Sneers was still talking. An indeterminate amount of time had passed.

“That was a pretty neat prank we pulled today, wasn’t it?” Sneers asked, still talking in that low, soothing voice, as if confronted with a wounded animal. “Jet probably wouldn’t have let us get away with it if you hadn’t been so thrilled. He hates to make you unhappy, you know. He wants to make it up to you. For what he was like before, I mean. Told me himself he’s the biggest idiot in the history of the universe.”

Something about Jet? No, you didn’t want to hear it. You didn’t want to hear anything about Jet. This was all Jet’s fault. Mizu was dead, and Jet was to blame. But no, it wasn’t him. It was you. All you, you, you, you!

“Oh geez, this isn’t working.” Sneers sighed. “This isn’t my area of expertise, Rukisha. I’m sorry I can’t be of more help. But y’know what? I bet I know somebody who can.”

And the boy took off like a shot, vanishing into the leafy canopy.

It hurt so much. Surely your chest was raw and bleeding, your heart carved out and shredded. But you could still feel it beating, and every pulse was another slap to your conscience. It was consuming you.

How long you sat there, wallowing in your misery, you didn’t know. But what became apparent was that there were others who would not, under any circumstances, allow such self-abuse.

There was a sudden buzzing noise that penetrated the fog around your mind, and you heard Sneers –once again at your side – mutter, “Thank goodness ....”

You snapped your head up, eyes wide, just in time to see Jet hurtling toward you on a zip line, his face transformed by a devious grin. All at once, you were hurtling out into space, screaming a high, girlish scream that you would no doubt be embarrassed about later.

Jet’s arm was tight around your waist, and your terror was so profound that you automatically wrapped your arms around him in return and hung on for dear life. You risked a glance upward, intending to give him a piece of your mind, and Jet had the nerve to grin rakishly and wink!

Had he not been your lifeline, you would have roasted him alive. Then you noticed –with rising horror – that he was holding onto the zip line with only one hand and with a muted shriek, you buried your face in his chest. The vibrations you felt could have been his laughter.

Moments later, it came as a surprise to find that your feet had met solid ground. Your limbs were frozen in shock, and you couldn’t have moved away from Jet if you tried.

He chuckled and said close to your ear, “Did you think I didn’t know you were behind the chili powder? You’re the only one who would know enough about its special properties, since it’s native to your country. That wasn’t very nice.”

Nice? And what he’d just done was?

You were still paralyzed, and you were hugging your sworn enemy, and his shirt smelled nice, sort of like pine needles, and – and.... your initial reaction was not anger, like it should have been. No, you were unprepared for the onslaught of gratitude. Gratitude that Jet had interrupted your moment of despair, that he had unwittingly spared you untold amounts of pain.

That lingering emotion may have had something to do with why you didn’t loosen your grip on him an inch.

Somebody cleared their throat, and you managed to turn your face away from Jet’s chest to see Smellerbee and the rest of the Friendly Five watching you in amazement.

“Um, did I miss something?” Smellerbee asked, her eyes bright with incredulous delight and, you were certain, a smidgen of hope.

You focused enough to place your hands firmly on Jet’s chest and push roughly away from him; he reluctantly let go of you.

Now that you were slowly recovering, anger wormed its way back into you, making you practically vibrate with fury. “Just what was that for?” You yelled viciously, but the effect was ruined when your voice cracked at the end.

Jet shrugged calmly, looking cool and unconcerned with his wind-tousled hair and loose posture. “An eye for an eye,” he replied.

You suppressed the urge to stomp your foot petulantly, and instead burst out, “But that was so – so....” So what? Mean? You colored in embarrassment for your childish antics.

Jet seemed to find them amusing, and his lips curved into a smirk.

“Quit smirking at me,” you growled.

“I’m not smirking , I’m smiling,” he said, and his eyes were alive with mirth.

“Then quit.... quit smiling smirkishly!”

Sneers doubled over with laughter, followed quickly by Smellerbee and the others. You saw Jet close his eyes, and by the set of his jaw you could tell that he was putting forth a great deal of effort to contain his laughter.

You’d had about enough of this. Jet never saw it coming. Lunging forward, you tackled him to the ground, not even thinking through your actions. His eyes flew open and he stared up at you with comic surprise, covering his face with his arms when your shock-weakened fists beat against them. He guffawed as the blows you rained down on him made no more difference than they would on a slab of granite.

The audience on the sidelines were beside themselves with hysterics, and Sneers looked like he might have busted a rib.

Jet was still chuckling when he grabbed your wrists with firm but gentle hands, saying, “That’s enough now, fire girl. Don’t hurt yourself on my account.”

You were taken off guard by the warmth in his voice and you paused, panting slightly, your long black hair falling in a curtain around his face. A ghost of a smile still graced his lips, even when the look in his eyes grew intense.

You stiffened immediately, hyper aware of the way you were laying across his chest, legs tangled with his. Alarm bells went off in your head and a tendril of fear wrapped itself around your heart and squeezed.

Jet picked up on the change and his eyes softened with understanding. He gingerly moved you off of him, climbing to his feet before pulling you upright as well.

You saw then what you hadn’t noticed before, a dozen angry red welts on his arms, raised and painful-looking. Then you wondered where he had gotten them and if, because of them, your pitiful blows had hurt him. The thought didn’t give you any of the satisfaction you expected.

Alerted by your silence, Jet glanced down to see what had diverted your attention. “Ah,” he said with a rueful grimace. “I tried my hand at Smellerbee’s job. I wasn’t very good at it.”

Smellerbee snorted. “I’ll say.”

The rebel leader just threw her a halfhearted glare before focusing back on you.

“Try to get some more sleep,” Jet said, peering into your eyes. “You look.... tired.”

He squeezed your shoulder reassuringly and you vehemently cursed his ability to read people. Jet had known what was going through your head before he swept you away on that blasted zip line. He’d done it purposefully, not in revenge for the prank, but in compassion. He could probably see straight through to your pain, to that well of sadness and loss that never went away. It made you feel too vulnerable, as if your every thought was out in the open for his perusal.

Stupid Jet, you thought as he walked away.

Stupid terrifying, confusing Jet.

You walked aimlessly, crossing over a rope bridge without even noticing the green depths below. You were too intent on sorting out your jumbled thoughts, thoughts about Mizu, about Jet, about life....

Smellerbee fell into step next to you, silently keeping you company. This was different; usually it was Longshot who paced beside you, offering quiet strength. Smellerbee was not known to keep her mouth shut for any length of time.

You suddenly became aware of the vague heaviness in your pocket, which you had unwittingly ignored in your distraction. You reached down to pluck out a folded maple leaf. Peeling it open, you discovered a fresh, dripping piece of honeycomb. Your favorite.

“Hey, Smellerbee?” You asked in a small voice.

“Yeah?”

“What exactly is your job again?”

She looked off to the side so you couldn’t see her face, but she couldn’t keep the smugness out of her voice when she said, “I’m the bee keeper, naturally. Notice the name? Of course, I do tons of other stuff besides, but it got to be sort of a hobby for me. All the honey we use and sell is harvested by me.”

Stupid, stupid Jet.

With a sigh, you broke the honeycomb in half and extended a portion to your friend. “Care for a treat?” You asked.

Smellerbee smiled and took the proffered piece. “You know it.”

*0*0*0*0*0*0*0*0*0*

That night you dredged up long-suppressed memories from basic training. You could have gone forever without recalling certain incidences that had resulted in either humiliation or pain, but that would have been too much of a kindness. The universe had declared such kindnesses off limits for you.

As it was, the memories came in useful, as you clearly remembered a night where some fellow trainees had decided to cover your sheets with fire ants. If they had expected you to scream like a girl, they were severely mistaken. Although you did get to hear them squeal quite impressively when they each awoke to a pillowcase full of scorpions.

Their stings had hurt quite a bit more than yours.

Dried moss….check.

Whitecrown mushroom….check.

Listing a few more items on a sheet of parchment, you scribbled some hasty directions and rolled the cursed thing up with a scowl. Who could have known you would have use for such a remedy once again?

You thrust it into Longshot’s hands, pinning him with a hard look before he could leave. “If he asks, it’s from Smellerbee,” you said firmly. “Don’t even think about bringing my name into this.”