The sun had not yet risen, but the world glowed with pale silver light. Snow fell in slow, lazy flakes, untouched and clean. The village remained quiet, wrapped in winter's blanket—but on the far edge of the tundra, two figures stood in the cold.
Korra's breath misted before her as she eyed Kaiqok from across the clearing. She wore a sleeveless training tunic now, arms bare to the cold despite the frost biting at her skin. Beside her, Kaiqok was shirtless as well—only the golden cloak of chakra surrounding him kept the chill at bay.
"Last one to collapse has to cook breakfast," Korra said, cracking her knuckles.
Kaiqok raised an eyebrow. "You're really confident in your stamina."
"I've had Naga drag me across half the tundra during blizzards. This is nothing."
He smirked. "Alright, Avatar. Show me what you've got."
She charged first, steam rising from her fists as fire erupted around her arms. She moved like a comet, each step cracking the snow beneath her. Kaiqok met her with smooth, practiced motions, shifting into a bear-form chakra cloak just in time to deflect her strikes.
Their clash sent shockwaves through the snow, kicking up clouds of white. Korra twisted midair and shot a burst of wind, trying to catch him off-guard, but Kaiqok flowed with it—his body shifting into a hawk-form cloak, soaring up and landing behind her.
"You're faster," he admitted, ducking another punch.
"And you're still holding back," she growled.
His smile faded slightly. "Because I don't want to hurt you."
"I'm the Avatar," she said, grinning. "You should be scared."
He laughed and finally let loose.
Golden energy surged around him as his animal chakra shifted into a sleek, tiger-like form. He dashed forward with wild speed, claws trailing streaks of chakra through the air. Korra responded in kind, earth erupting beneath her feet as she shot into the sky on a rock pillar.
Their fight danced across the frozen field—fire against spirit, strength against speed.
But eventually, Korra dropped to one knee, panting, her breath ragged.
Kaiqok landed beside her, barely winded, though his cloak shimmered less brightly now.
"You win," she admitted, falling back into the snow. "I hate that you win so much."
He lay down beside her. "You're improving fast. Most people wouldn't last five seconds against me."
Korra chuckled, snowflakes gathering in her hair. "You're terrible at compliments."
They both lay there for a while, staring at the sky.
"…Do you ever miss it?" she asked suddenly. "Your old life."
He was quiet for a long time.
"I used to," he said at last. "I had friends. A job I didn't hate. I even liked just walking alone with headphones in… watching the sunset."
She turned to look at him. "What changed?"
"You," he said simply.
Heat crept into her cheeks, and it wasn't from the firebending.
"You barely know me," she muttered.
"I know enough. I've seen how stubborn you are. How you never give up, even when everyone else thinks you should. And I've seen your smile." He paused. "That's enough to know I'm glad I ended up here."
Korra looked away, flustered, and sat up. "Stop saying stuff like that."
"Why?"
"Because it makes my heart do weird things," she snapped.
Kaiqok blinked. "Good-weird or bad-weird?"
"…Shut up."
He grinned and stood up, brushing snow from his pants. "Come on. Let's head back before your stomach starts yelling louder than your firebending."
Korra remained sitting.
"…Wait," she said softly.
He turned.
There was a stillness to her now—not her usual fire and chaos, but a calm, deeper part of her. She pulled her knees up and hugged them, staring at the snow in front of her.
"I saw something, back at the lake," she said.
Kaiqok tensed slightly but didn't interrupt.
"I saw a future without you," she continued. "I was crying. Alone. It felt… hollow. Like something inside me was missing."
"I know," he said quietly. "I saw it too."
She looked up, eyes searching his. "Is it going to happen?"
"I don't know. But I won't let it, if I can help it."
The snow fell thicker now, muffling the world around them.
Korra stood, stepping close, her face barely inches from his.
"Then promise me," she whispered. "No matter what happens… no matter how bad it gets… you won't leave me. Not like that."
He stared into her eyes, then slowly reached out, taking her hand.
"I promise," he said. "Not even death gets to take me from you."
Their hands clasped, warm even in the cold.
The air shimmered—faintly, softly.
And in that moment, a pact stronger than words formed between them.
A spirit fox peeked from the edge of the trees, watching with quiet approval before vanishing into the snow.
As they walked back toward the village, their hands still linked, the sun finally broke over the horizon—casting golden light across the frozen field.
Two figures. One path.
And a promise sealed beneath the falling snow.