The Forsaken Hero

There were only so many times I could tell myself to believe in Korra. Practicing it was another matter, but Sari’s presence helped somewhat. As the long, agonizing minutes dragged by, Fable began to shift, nudging me with his head.

"Hey, cut that out," I said, giving him a gentle glare.

Sari giggled, and her ears wiggled under my hand. "I think he’s just jealous."

I blinked several times, then down at the foxkin girl. I’d been stroking her head for some time now, almost instinctively, to the point I hadn’t even noticed. She was just so soft and silky, like a kitten’s fur.

Fable nudged me again, and I smiled, a ray of light breaking through the darkness. "Is that right?"

It didn’t take much to convince me to start petting him instead, but that was pretty much unavoidable when he laid his massive head directly in my lap, his perked ears tickling my chest. He was dangerously close to the sunpurge, but like always, Fable somehow avoided doing more than sending a warning tingle racing across my skin.

"See, that’s it," Sari murmured, cuddling up against my side. "That’s how I got through the darkness."

I paused, and realized she was right. Much of the gloom had dispelled, and though I still felt nervous, fear had loosened its crippling grip on me. I could imagine Korra walking out of that gate just fine, as easily as I could imagine her being hurt or worse.

Sari and I continued talking for some time, sharing our experiences and suffering at the hands of the Circle of Chains. It was a morbid, painful subject to share between two freed slaves, but judging by her smile, it was exactly what she needed—and what I needed, for that matter. As much as I healed by sharing my story with Korra and others, I also felt a special kind of relief when sharing it with someone who truly knew what I experienced.