Chapter Text
His soulmate knelt before a pool of water, a bowl full of something brown or green perched nearby. The little girl beside her held her own, smaller bowl. She sighed.
"What's wrong?" his soulmate asked.
"…I wish we could do more. Cousin Sokka always says there's no one to help and the rest of us are just babies so we can't."
His soulmate scooped up her bowl and stood. "I'm going to tell you a secret. You want to hear it?"
The girl grinned. She grabbed her bowl and hopped up as well.
"You see, Sokka says all that about being the only man left in the village and being all responsible for everyone. But guess what? He doesn't stitch up his own pants. Do you know who does?"
"Who?"
"Me." She pointed to herself. "Every time his clothes tear, I'm the one who sews them up. You know who washes his dirty socks?"
"Is it you?"
"That's right. All that talk about being a grown man and he doesn't sew his own clothes or wash them either. The truth is that he can't do everything for the village and he's not alone. We're all part of the village. We all help out, however we can. And right now you're helping me, right?"
"Right!"
"Then I'd say we're doing great."
His soulmate held out her mitt and the girl smacked her own against it.
They couldn't just stay underground, obviously. For one, the place Flint told them about was across the boarder. That boarder was marked by a mountain rang that was at least a day out by cart ride, and a lot further on foot. And for another, their group was now much bigger and mostly made up of small, hungry children, half of whom decided they really needed to pee right at that moment.
So instead of a grand, mysterious journey underground, here's what happened: Jet snuck out and found an entire jackfruit-lychee to crack open and share with the kids, Longshot found a cart with a pair of bear-horses that liked him well enough, and Smellerbee "found" a bag of unattended money, which didn't count for much until it happened to contain a piece of paper that somehow got them past the soldiers at the foot of the mountain range.
Along the way, Jet had kept their new charges occupied by teaching them foraging. They made a game out of pointing out edible plants, medicinal plants, and signs of water, which served to keep them entertained and fed and watered. They were what Jet and Smellerbee brought out when they met a caravan in the mountains and the rest of the kids had to hide in the cart. After all, crops weren't doing so great in the war. Might as well bring back what they could for their family back home. Oh, would the caravan leader like some of the medicinal herbs? Or perhaps the honey-hive as well?
By the time they parted ways, their cart was weighed down with enough perishable foods to fill half of it and no further questions asked.
The first fire town they came to, Smellerbee grabbed Flint and together they disappeared into the streets until sundown, when they returned one bag of coin lighter but with enough Fire Nation clothes (eurgh) to make the kids look slightly less suspicious if anyone found them. It took what was left of the day to decide who would go back into town for the real task, but in the end Jet convinced them to let him go with Flint this time.
"Worst come to worst, make another hole in the ground and stay there until we come back."
"You better come back." Smellerbee hugged Jet. Longshot joined in, which led to another hug pile that took an age to get out of again.
For this plan to work, what they'd needed was a large town. On this side of the mountain pass, there'd been smaller villages and settlements scattered along the way. But what they needed was a trading hub. Which meant a town. Which meant shopping district.
Perfume and odder, muskier smells filled the area. A giant fan of bedazzled feathers waved in Jet's direction. "You sure we're going to find that…person? Over here?"
"No, we gotta look in the ocean," Flint rolled her eyes. "Yes I'm sure. Thread means cloth. That means cloth guild."
"Couldn't 've found them yesterday, then?" muttered Jet. The longer they stayed, the more likely they were to run into trouble. Or for trouble to find them.
He got an elbow in the side for that. "Of course not, because someone was guarding it!" Jet clutched the red flower thing tighter. She's the one who'd left it with him. What if it'd gotten lost when Smellerbee had taken her shopping? It was too important to lose. "Why're you still holding onto it anyways? Give it back!"
He dodged her hands. "Ask nicely."
"Just give it!"
"Well, if you're going to act like that—"
A hand grabbed his wrist. A large, meaty, and very warm hand.
Behind them stood a Fire Nation soldier.
"What do you have?" Jet would've answered, but the man looked at Flint instead. "Did he steal it?"
Flint froze. Her mouth gaped open but nothing came out. It suddenly dawned on Jet that it was never the clothes that would've made things less suspicious for them. There was no face that would be made less suspicious when compared to Flint's pale skin and pale eyes. Least of all Jet's.
The hand on his wrist tightened. "If you don't give it back, I—"
"What's going on here?"
A long, thin woman reached between them. Layers of colourful fabric hung from her arm. She tapped Jet's hand, closed into a tight fist. "Can I see that?"
"This rat was stealing—"
"I'll decide whether it was stealing or not. This is the cloth market. I am a seamstress. I believe I'm allowed to take a look, at least?"
She stared the soldier down. His face didn't change. But finally, he released Jet.
The problem with towns was that they always meant trouble for Jet. This was going to end in disaster, the kids waiting for them would be left all alone, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.
Jet's hand tightened. Screw that. He wasn't giving up. He'd find a way to get a message out to Smellerbee and Longshot. Tell them to take those orphaned kids and run. They'd have to fight him if they wanted to kill him, and he refused to die.
The woman looked nice enough. Though she had black hair and pale skin too. Still.
Slowly, Jet opened his hand.
In his palm, the flower had crumpled. Some threads had pulled tighter while others had loosened. The woman plucked it and pulled until both of the petals sticking out the sides shrunk inwards and vanished, leaving only one long loop sticking out the end.
"It's just a double connection knot. A hanging knot, see?" She showed it to the soldier. "Though usually they're used for jewelry. They're easy to make and cost nothing to have. These two were probably just playing."
"You can't know that for sure. We need to—"
The woman raised an eyebrow. "I beg you pardon? Are you telling me, a seamstress, that I don't know my knots?" The soldier sputtered, but she continued over him. "I shall handle this. If I need help, I will find it. Now go."
She made shooing motions at him like waving away a dog-yak. Or a rich lady dismissing a servant. The soldier shot a glare at Jet like that was his fault and left.
Contrary to how she'd treated the man, the woman smiled brightly at Jet and Flint. She waved them over to her stall. "Come along, then. Best not trouble the other shoppers."
Were they? It didn't look like they were troubling other shoppers at all. During that whole interaction, no one else had stepped up to help. Even now some were still looking, but aside from that it was like Jet and Flint didn't exist.
The two wordlessly followed her into the stall. Past the beaded curtain at the entrance hung walls of fabrics. When the woman turned, it was as if she'd stepped out from them. The long, low table had a bunch of thread flowers arranged on it. Some were simple, like Flint's had been, while others were so big and complex as to span his hand.
Amongst them, the woman placed their piece of thread on the table, smoothing it out with her fingers. "You're lucky I found you. I don't think most others would've known what to make of this."
"But you said it's a hanging knot, right?" asked Flint.
"It could be, if you wished to use it that way. But look carefully," She picked up a bright yellow length of string and tied it, then showed it side by side with their own.
"…They look a little different."
"They are. This double knot is simpler. But yours is criss-crossed."
"What is it, then?"
"…Something I haven't see in a long time." Carefully, the tips of her nails tugged on the sides, until two petals grew from them again. "Whatever name it had before is one I don't know. But there are those among us tailors who know it as the true love knot. It's…a very old symbol, but at its heart, it means love. Love, prosperity, good fortune."
Arms crossed, she frowned down at the little cloth flower. "A long time ago, the people who know what this means helped me when I needed it." When her eyes found theirs, they held a lifetime of memories. "Do you need help?"
Flint opened her mouth like she planned to answer but Jet held up a hand. "How do we know we can trust you?" How should they know she's telling the truth? She could be anyone. She could be doing anything.
But this strange woman didn't look upset or angry at him. She just hummed. "…Fair enough." For a moment, she didn't move. Then she smiled. "You know, whenever I went visiting, there's always something I'd do so that they know it's me."
Two of her fingers went to her mouth and a pair of high, lilting notes whistled out.
Hello! Where are you?
The notes were quiet enough to stay between them, but there was no mistaking what they were. Whatever Jet's face was doing hadn't gone unnoticed, either. They made a deal. In three days time, the seamstress would prepare to leave. By then the other children would have put it up to vote on whether or not to go, too.
Except that, of course, before sunset the town had more visitors in it. Visitors making a lot of noise about missing children, even getting the soldiers involved. There was a call to search for them, rewards should anyone find them.
At least in fire country no one bothered to check under the ground.
Somewhere in between that, finding the seamstress again, and getting well out of the way, there was a moment where one of the kids asked Jet, "How will we let you know we reached safe?"
Jet lifted his arm. A shadow swooped down from the sky and Pyaari hooked her feet on his leather clad wrist. By then, the children had gotten familiar enough with her that when the one who asked the question held out a hand, Pyaari gently nibbled on it, then hopped onto the child's shoulder.
"She'll tell me. She's smart, and she can find her way back. Take care of her for me?"
In response, Jet and his group got several hugs. Because they—including the children who'd originally been taken from it—had decided to go back, since they needed to return to the people they'd left behind. They were lucky to escape detection on the way back. Luckier still that the youngest ones were exactly where they'd left them—near the healer's hut. They wouldn't stay lucky for long and needed to quickly set up up a new base. It'd be a while before they could go near the roads and village again.
Some time later, a familiar black shape soared down from the trees and into Jet's arms.
There was a scrap of paper tied to her foot, and Quickfoot, who by then had learned some reading thanks to it taking so long for him to heal, slowly read it out loud to the kids grouped around them. Those other children were safe. The people in the mountains who helped lost children were real. Should they ever be in need, then they were willing to provide aid to them. All they had to do was ask.
"But can we? What if it's fake? And it's not like most of us know how to write back."
"And yet, you're here," pointed out Karthik, the healer. The sun shined down on him and the words he'd scrawled in the dirt.
Jet scoffed. "I'm not learning to read just for people who may or may not exist. It'd be a waste of paper."
Karthik just nodded and pointed his stick to the writing. "Read this, then."
Something in his voice sounded like he was just humoring Jet. Which made him scowl, but he still did as told. Words had gotten easier to understand a lot faster than he'd expected, and he couldn't afford to come over very often when they'd moved so far out. Jet was determined to make sure as many of the kids knew how to read as soon as possible even if he had to teach them himself. Between Flint teaching them fighting and the rest of them doing what they could to survive in the forest, they needed all the survival tools they could get.
But they were still just kids. Their life couldn't be about hiding and surviving all the time. (Even if it was for Jet.) They'd make up songs to sing while they worked. They'd play games during the long, golden summer evenings. At night, they told stories while the cicada-moths buzzed.
One of the stories was about the harvest moon festival. They wanted to make sweet foods to celebrate it, so Longshot helped them find sweet fruits and nuts. They wanted to dance under the moonlight, so Smellerbee went with them to find a clearing where the trees allowed the moon to shine down on the grass. It was Jet who tried his hand at sewing some decorations into their clothes.
They looked beautiful under the moonlight. As they danced and sang, Jet sat in a tree and watched them. They looked so happy it ached. It's how they should be all the time. Not hiding from a war that wanted to eat them whole. Not wasting away their childhoods in the wilderness.
The truth was, Jet had never wanted obedient little soldiers to fight back at the world. He didn't need children to bleed and die for him. He needed to never see a child die again.
A weight landed on his branch, making it creak. He didn't bother looking away from the clearing.
"…The dry season's going to come soon. It'll be harder to find food then."
Jet shrugged. "I've survived it before. I know how to get us by." He didn't ask Flint why she wasn't out there, too. Chances were, she was staring at her own shred of family and thinking thoughts like his own. "Did you have something else in mind?"
"…Kind of." From the corner of his eye, she started swinging her legs. He'd started to wonder if she'd ever bother answering the question when she suddenly went, "You know, I think I know where my soulmate is."
Jet's head turned to gape at her. Soulmates were private. Even if someone had one, they weren't something people just talked about. Least of all the two of them.
"Did you ever wonder why I trusted that lady so fast? Or why I acted like that when you found us?" Flint pointed to the stitching on his clothes. "It's because I've seen that in my dreams. I saw that knot before the woman back in that place gave it to me. I didn't say anything when that first letter came because I knew it was telling the truth. I've seen it, and it's real."
She scooted close enough for the light filtering through the leaves to catch in her eyes and make them glow. "Since my brother's all better now, I'm thinking of going to that place and taking him with me. Us, and whoever else wants to go, and…you, if you want? Will you help me?"
They say that the fire wiped out all that it touched. That the only things left of the past lay in ashes.
But it hadn't reach everything. The fact that Jet lived—that Karthik the healer, and the seamstress, and the supposedly ancient symbol from long ago survived, was proof of that. And maybe this was further proof that there was more out there than he knew.
Maybe Jet wasn't the only one who cared. And maybe he didn't have to do it alone.