New Beginnings (tarlof)

Dusk. Legends said that the boundaries between the world of the dead and that of the living was weakest at dusk. He'd seen many such legends across many continents over his long career as a travelling scholar, but he'd never put much stock in it. Still he could very well understand why people associated this time of day with the macabre. The low sun, clipping into the horizon and colouring the surrounding in a blood red light made everything seem darker, every lengthened shadow looked like a portal to a gloomier world. When travelling there was little time to observe such things though. For travellers dusk meant time to set up a shelter for the night was running dangerously low. Zesh limped over to another branch that seemed suitably dry and picked it up, adding it to the growing pile in his arms.

The ground below him was muddy, with every step his feet dug in, the added effort was doing nothing to make the irksome phantom pain in his missing leg stop. This had been a grassy plain before the rain came, a few green tufts could be seen here and there poking out from the brown muck. His back was turned to a tall pale cliff, he'd spent most of the day navigating his way down the treacherously thin path that led down from it, and all of that effort had been undergone under the pouring rain. The valley he was currently standing in was marked out by that cliff at the south and mountains in all other directions. Their peaks were the ones casting colossal and ominous shadows on him as the sun passed behind them. He had been on this path before, and this valley was always a good place to stop for the night, it was naturally protected from the worst of the wind and finding shelter here wasn't too hard. There were many trees around, mostly mighty ashes whose canopy offered good protection from the rain and there were multiple hollows in the cliff one could use. This valley was just a few more hours' walk away from the next village he was planning to visit, with any luck he'd get there before lunch tomorrow.

It was the rainy season in the Fire Nation mainland and while every event that came together to make such downpour common was a fascinating thing to study it was a right pain in the back to gather firewood when it rained non-stop for hours on end. Thankfully right now it had stopped raining, for a little time at least. Wood in hand he limped off back to the cave he'd spotted a few minutes ago, leaning heavily on his walking stick for support. Well 'cave' was a generous word. It was a small hollow into that dug just three or four meters into the cliff face that would offer good protection form the wind and rain form three sides. Still it was even better than spending the night under a tree.

As he entered his temporary home the old man dropped the wood to the floor in a messy pile and started rummaging into his bag. A few seconds of grumbling and mumbling later he took out a small slightly curved metal plate and used it to dig a shallow hollow into the ground. He dug deep enough to find dry soil, but not so deep that the fire would be too low to offer any warmth. Satisfied he'd dug a good enough fire pit he proceeded to arrange his firewood in conical pile. His movements were practised and precise, he had done this a million times before, and he was certainly hoping to do it a million times more before he laid down to die. Finally he withdrew a chipped and worn piece of flint from his bag and a steel rod a few inches long which he proceeded to hit together several times, sending sparks at the wood, but none seemed to catch.

"Spirits be damned," he growled under his breath. The wood he'd selected was probably too wet to produce a decent flame. "Damn them and damn this rain," he continued grumbling as he resumed his efforts, Outside of his shelter the rain was beginning to pound down again. Going out to find dryer wood would be an exercise in futility by now, he was stuck with what he had and it seemed nothing other than bending would get this fire started, and sadly he was no bender.

A man awoke to solid red and pain. As his vision cleared more colors appeared until he made out the inner walls of steel and tapestry. When he got up pain shot through his head.
"ARG!''
He stood up, pushing the pain away and stumbled to the door. Opening it, he used the corridor wall as support as his vision blurred. The man heard a noise down the corridor and stumbled the other way.

When he came to a door he quickly opened it and rushed through. Shutting it behind him he looked around. When he saw the lights of patrol  coming from both sides he did the only thing he could think of and dove off the ships edge. Upon surfacing he saw the shore and made his way there. Deciding that staying near the shore was a bad idea he turned inland.
During the day it rained and despite the rain the man wasn't cold. In the distance the man saw a cliff. With no idea where to go he turned towards it and trekked on. As dusk approached, the cliff got closer. He started to hear strange sounds in the ash trees around him. As a branch broke behind him he instinctually spun and punched . As he did bright fire spewed forth from his fist, extending past the tree tops. startled he stumbled back, tripped  and fell to the ground. looking up he saw a fire ferret looking at him.

"I guess this is as good a place to stop as any if you are running around" the man said as he stood up and brushed himself off.

Looking around the man realised how hungry he was and how little he actually knew about the area. When he looked at the ferret he thought about cooking him but realized that he had no dry wood at all and that raw meat isn't that good. Looking about he saw a faltering light coming from what looked like a cave in the nearby cliff.

"Maybe there is some food there, huh little guy'' the man said to the small red ferret.

Heading toward the cave the man started to think to himself. 'What if they are hostile?' As he walked he started to punch up fire. The bursts were small at first, barely hot enough to sizzle water, but they grew larger. Suddenly the ferret jumped on his shoulder startling him slightly.

''I guess nothing really wants to be out in this rain huh?''

Ahead he spotted a trail leading up to the cave he had spotted earlier.

"Well shelter is up ahead at least." the man as he continued , taking the path up to the cave.

As he approached he heard a man grumbling inside the cave and flattened himself against the cliff face. At that moment his stomach growled.

Busy as he was slamming flint and steel together in an increasingly unlikely attempt to have a single spark catch Zesh was not so busy that he had completely failed to notice the commotion outside. He had poked his head out just a few seconds and while nothing could be seen clearly in the heavy rain and mild fog he had noticed the occasional brightening. Decades of experience on the road and around benders told him two things, one someone was firing off bursts of fire for reasons he couldn't be sure of and secondly whoever was entertaining dreams of pyromancy was coming his way. Whether they were friend or foe he could not tell, and when on the road it was always wiser to assume they were foes and plan accordingly. Better to have a plan and not need it then to be caught unaware.

Sadly his options regarding a plan of attack were limited to say the least. Instead he moved so that he was facing the entrance and so that his back was to the hollow's farthest back wall. Anything that entered the cave he would see. And then he proceeded to wait patiently, taking out one of his journals and beginning his usual process of adding to it. Eventually he heard the growl of a stomach, and he could only assume it belonged to the one he'd been waiting for.

"If you're here to steal from me then know I have nothing worth your time. I have little in the way of money or valuables. If you're here for food I'd be happy to share it and this fire with you," he called out. His voice was perfectly calm and confident, loud enough to carry to the outside of the cave without sounding angry or scared. He had no way to fight, if this stranger wanted him dead then he would die.

"Seems that the fire is a little lacking to me." the man said reaching up to stroke the ferret's head as he stepped around the wall into view. the ferret lifted its head while the man looked around the cave. "Need help getting it started?"

when his eyes came upon the old man an image of a man with arrow tattoos popped into his head. he shook the image away.

Zesh relaxed a little as the stranger walked out of his hiding spot and into view. He hadn't even realised it but he'd been holding his breath in anticipation. The old man hadn't been afraid to die, or even to face danger, but rather he had been impatient to find out what sort of person he was about to meet. That need to know was what made him who he was after all, he probably never would have left the Water Tribe if he didn't have this insatiable desire to seek knowledge for no reason other than to have an answer. As it turned out it was a slim kid who couldn't be older than in his late teen years that had rounded the corner to greet him.

"A little lacking is one way to put it," the old man chuckled, pulling himself off the ground, using the cave's back wall for support. "Non-existent would be another way to describe it," he added, throwing a dirty look at the fireless fire pit. "You're more than welcome to give it a shot if you want," he said, pointing at the flint and steel he'd dropped as he moved to the back of the cave.

The bursts of light he'd seen just before this newcomer's arrival and the kid's Fire Nation clothes strongly were compelling evidence that he was a fire, or maybe a light bender, allowing him to light the fire would confirm it either way. It was information Zesh needed to know, because if this kid wasn't the bender he'd seen earlier than that meant there was an unknown individual walking about out there still, which warranted caution, and because he just wanted to know. Plus he really needed that fire lit. At his age sleeping in the cold was a bad idea, unless he wanted to ache all over the next day.

When the man told him to give it a try, the young man with the ferret put his fists up like a boxer and punched sending a small ball of fire towards the wood, trying to light it. When all it did was hiss the young man followed up with a series of punches until the fire was lit. His task complete he flopped to the ground, tired from exertion. His stomach growled again.

The man was untrained in the ways of fire bending. That much was quite obvious from his terrible stance, poor form, reliance on basic moves and the weakness of his initial attempts. That he managed to produce any fire at all with as little training as he'd undergone was impressive in and of itself though. That kid's inner fire probably burned bright, and with the proper care and instruction he had great potential.

The old man smiled to himself as the flames caught to the damp wood. For now the burning wood produced more smoke than warmth, but it was better than nothing. Zesh closed his eyes a moment, savouring what little warmth he could, nearing his hands to the flame to warm them up and melt away the frigid languor that had taken hold of them over the past few minutes. He opened his eyes again when his newly found company's stomach growled. He'd nearly forgotten, the boy looked colder and hungrier than Zesh felt, and that was saying something.

Without a word Zesh grabbed his bag, dragging it close by and procured several strips of dried smoked meat from within and presented a fairly sized one to the boy.

"I'm afraid it's too damp for a cooking fire, but this ought to tide you over until the morning. Consider it thanks for lighting an old man's camp fire in such dreary weather," he declared. Remembering how things often were on the road he tore a small piece from the meat and popped it into his mouth. "Lucky you, it's not even poisoned," he joked lightly, extending the hand holding the meat back to the teen.

He had to admit, this boy was a mystery. He looked young, not too young to be a completely unusual sight on the roads, but young enough to stand out. The surrounding settlements were mainly farming villages, a boy of his age, ready for work, wouldn't usually be left wanting for shelter. Maybe he was a stray, or a runaway. Whatever the case, his story would surely be interesting.

He sat up when the old man offered him food, giving him a confused look when he claimed it was not poisoned. Why should it? Should he be concerned? It didn't matter he was hungry. "Thank you" he said reaching for the meat. As hungry as he was something in the back of his mind told him not to scarf it, so he ate slow. The first bite was almost like heaven. "I thank you for your hospitality" he said, taking another bite. " i do wish i could do more to repay you than lighting a fire mister..."

He had to admit he was somewhat surprised at the kid's reaction to the food. The teen looked like he was going through a moment of pure ecstasy as he bit into the dried and shrivelled up meat. How hungry had that boy been? The food wasn't exactly bad, but it certainly wasn't any good. The meat, dried for as a long as it had been, was practically devoid of all taste.

Zesh snorted in derision and waved away the thanks gruffly. This wasn't hospitality, it was basic roadside courtesy between two weary travellers. Or at least it was to him, in his younger days the roads had certainly not been safe, but relations between peaceful travellers had definitely been better. Sharing a fire and one's provisions with one's fellow travellers had been expected back then. Nowadays though kindness and generosity were rarer, the exception rather than the norm. Or maybe he was becoming too old, maybe he was remembering the past through rose tinted goggles. Maybe.

"My name is Zesh," he replied as he moved his wooden leg so that he could sit more comfortably. "There is something you could do to thank me actually. You could tell me of yourself. It's rare to find a kid your age away from home in these parts, especially at night. Care to share your tale with an old man?"

His face fell "I awoke on a ship and escaped. I swam to shore and traveled inland until I got here." He held up the meat. "This is the only thing I've eaten sense I awoke. That's my story. I don't know my name." He drew his knees to his chest. "I don't even know who I am." He dropped his head to his knees."