“Ok.” Ming-Hua watched Zaheer as he exited the cave and eventually exited her field of vision. “He’s crazy now.”

“Don’t- don’t say that.” Ghazan muttered. Even though they weren’t looking at them, Ming-Hua could tell he was pressing his hand to his forehead, like he always did when he was frustrated.

“What, and I should lie about it?” Ming-Hua turned to her companion- the only one of their friends they had left. “He’s- you can’t justify this behavior!”

“Justify what behavior?” Ghazan asked, his worry apparent by his face, his posture. “There really isn’t anything different about him. He’s fine, we’re fine. Everything’s fine. Nothing’s changed and we’re all going to go through with this together, just like we always planned.”

“Everything’s fine? Everything’s fine?!” Ming-Hua shouted. Her voice echoed on the walls of the cave, reverberating in the silence they had created. “P’li’s dead and you have the nerve to say that everything’s fine?! Has the sulfur inhalation finally taken effect? Nothing is fine right now!”

Ghazan stalled, and started to draw a figure-eight in the gravelly lining the cave ground with his foot. “Yeah, P’li’s dead. It happens. We didn’t stall when Rahma died, or Temuera, or anyone else before. This isn’t any different. We need to keep moving.”

“That’s a lie.” Ming-Hua hissed, stepping away from Ghazan. She was stopped by the walls of the cave, the limited space restraining them. “It’s a lie and you know it is. Every time someone’s died, we’ve taken the time to mourn, to grieve, to give them the respect they deserve. We kept moving, but we took time to pay our respects. P’li would do the same for you.”

Ghazan looked away, as if he couldn’t bear to keep eye contact with her. “We’ll give her a proper funeral after… everything. We- we can’t stop now.”

“You sound like Zaheer.”

“And that’s a bad thing now?”

“Yes! He abandoned us!”

Ghazan hesitated. “No, he hasn’t- he wouldn’t-”

“He left us for flight! For the sky!” Ming-Hua snapped. It was hard for her to believe it too, but Ghazan was in denial. “You heard him! He ‘let go of all his earthy attachments’ or whatever!

Ghazan didn’t say anything, letting the silence speak for itself.

“No. No. No.” Ming-Hua shook their head. “No. You can’t possibly be defending him.”

Ghazan stalled.

“He doesn’t care about us anymore! Maybe not ever!” She had to keep from crying, the weight of everything trying to drown her. Once, when they were just a child, Ming-Hua had fallen into a body of water- whether it had been the sea or a lake or a pool she couldn’t remember. The cold, briny water had filled her lungs and threatened to pull her under, and it had taken all her might to stay alive. This was worse, because at least the drowning eventually stopped.

“Maybe he doesn’t…” Ghazan said. His voice grew softer, his posture relaxed. He ran a hand through his hair but stopped it at his forehead.

“There is no doubt in my mind that he doesn’t care about us anymore, if he ever did in the first place. He left us for his idealistic view of the world and his stupid philosophies and poetry. I wouldn’t be surprised if this is what he’s been after ever since he got airbending! Prison changed him- it changed all of us, but it changed him a lot.”

“But we still care about, him, right?” Ghazan asked, though he sounded like he was pleading more to any supernatural forces that might be listening than to Ming-Hua. “We- we still care about him. If we abandon him like he did us, then what’s the point? It’ll be twenty years of friendship completely wasted! We can’t do that to him!”

“He’s already doing that to us! He already ruined everything we’ve been working towards for the past twenty years!” Thirteen of those years had been spent in prison, but that wasn’t important. “It took one moment for him to turn on us and destroy everything! If- if P’li was here, what would she think of this! What would she think of us?!” She was crying, for the first time in years. They would’ve bent the tears away, but they couldn’t muster the strength to.

“We can’t just leave him, though.” Ghazan repeated. He was covering his eyes- a subtle sign that he, too, was crying. “Where would we go?”

“I don’t know.” Ming-Hua looked down, at the circles Ghazan had traced in the gravel. “But we can’t stay. Did you- did you see her?”

“See who, P’li?” Ghazan asked.

“No. The kid. Korra.” Ming-Hua could feel their voice breaking as they forced out the words. “Zaheer- he has her drugged and tied up in a cave somewhere, he took away all her belongings- her armbands, her shoes, her staff. It’s sickening.”

Ghazan shivered and put his hand over his mouth. “Well, she’s the Avatar, right? It’s- it’s a precaution. She’s the most powerful bender, ever.”

“She’s a kid!” Ming-Hua pleaded. “She’s eighteen years old! Think about it- what were you doing at eighteen! What were any of us doing at eighteen! She’s only a kid and she doesn’t deserve this.”

“I thought we had already decided on this.” Hesitancy and fear- genuine, actual fear- laced Ghazan’s voice. He sounded as if he was on the verge of tears. He probably was. “We were always going to kill her. That’s always been the plan.”

Ming-Hua couldn’t bear to look up at Ghazan. “Not always. We weren’t always going to kill her.”

Ghazan took in a breath, shaking and tense and slow. “Zaheer probably was.”

“Yeah, he probably was.” It wasn’t the best of thoughts to consider, their best friend of decades wanting to kill a small child.

“P’li wouldn’t want this.” Ghazan declared. Ming-Hua would’ve thought the sentiment obvious. “She wouldn’t want us to do this.”

“I know.” Ming-Hua answered. For once, she forces gentleness into her voice. “Spirits, what are we going to do?”

Ghazan sighed and met her gaze. “I don’t know. But we have to do something.”