My father was the typical nobleman.

A pompous, self-important, arrogant bastard that had been given status, riches, and power, simply by the circumstances of his birth.

He was also the typical idiot, meaning that after his parents died, leaving him with complete control over the entirety of their estate, he was quick to squander it. If I was more forgiving of him, I would also be inclined to note that he could've been worse. He wasn't a gambler who had accidentally lost his house in promises of a big win, nor was he an addict who would pawn off the rooftiles of his ancestral home for a quick fix of opium, but in my opinion, he was somehow worse than both of those.

He was simply a fool. With no factors to blame other than his poor financial decisions, he had somehow lost a large portion of the wealth that had been left to him. While he was still obscenely rich, his generational wealth being vast enough that he literally wouldn't be able to spend all of it in his lifetime even if he tried, he had made himself a joke in the political world where his own parents had once been feared and respected amongst the upper echelons of the Fire Nation.

His name had been smeared in the mud, but he believed that if he salvaged the legacy of our family through the next generation, he would be forgiven by his ancestors.

My mother was a firebender, a powerful one in her own right, even if she used her art for performace rather than war. He had married her in hopes that she would sire him a strong firebending son, even if he had no such talents of his own, and he had been disappointed when I grew up and showed no talents in her art. But no matter. He could always try again if he needed to, but when my mother gave birth to septuplet girls, and refused to sire any more children, my father was stuck with me as his only male heir.

My sisters, though I loved them in concept, I didn't understand them. As septuplets, each of them fought to appear in the spotlight of my father's attention, but I could never understand why. It wasn't something worth fighting for.

My father was still rich enough that, once they were old enough, they were all shipped to a boarding school for obscenely rich young ladies, while I was stuck at home, under his incompetent tutelage.

He intended to teach me the art of military regardless of my lack of firebending ability, hoping to forge me into a respected general that could bring back his family's honour, but he had no talent for war and no talent for teaching. I'm not sure why he insisted that he be the one to tutor me on these things, but I could only assume it was out of stubbornness or fear that he would get no recognition if I succeeded under someone else's guidance. All it really taught me was how to be more defiant. The more I was exposed to him, the more I realized that he was weak, disgustingly so, in every way imaginable. It became clear that rather than teaching me, he was more interested in jumping at the distorted reflections of his own mistakes that he saw in every move I made.

My father was a traditional man, and corporal punishment was one tradition that he was quick to resort to whenever I did something to remind him of his failures, such as breathing, but his limp-wristed beatings were not the reason that I left that household.

I was actually inspired by news of one of my sisters running away from her school, leaving only a note behind that claimed she was off to join the circus. It made me realize that if my baby sister could simply decide to leave the life that our parents set out for her, there was little that actually tied me down to my father, aside from a few very climbable walls.

I refuse to suggest that I ran away from home, implying that there was anything worth running from, but when I left my home at the age of thirteen, with nothing on but my clothes and a small bag of tools, I found myself strangely drawn to the mountain range that surrounded my hometown. One of the few things that my father had taught me that stuck in my mind, were the quotes of scholars that were wiser than him.

"We are not defined by the mountains we face in life, but what we choose to do once we come across them."

While it pained me to take the quote so literally, like my father who had somehow missed the obvious metaphor and went off on a tangent to describe the geographical benefits and challenges of maintaining a city on the mountainside like ours was, with nothing better to do, I climbed it.

Surviving in the mountain wasn't as difficult as I might've assumed, if I had actually been thinking of that when I chose to climb it. I had learned several survival techniques under the tutelage of the vast library in my ancestral home, and was able to identify any berries and shrubs that were safe to eat with minimal preparation, and I was able to fashion a basic trap out of my bag and the drawstring of my pants. While locating sources of water was a challenge at first, I eventually climbed high enough that snow started to gather under the permanent shadows of the cliffsides, which made it trivial. I hadn't packed much clothing, and the cold nights were almost lethal, but I was able to survive once I learned how to make fire with the dry shrubs that littered the rocky mountainside.

It was a luxury to live a life that didn't include the constant eyesore of my father, but it was clear that it wasn't a life I wasn't meant to live. While I could easily become a hermit if I wanted to, the idea didn't sit right with me. It felt too much like I was giving up on living in society, and while the world outside of the mountain held no special place in my heart, it wasn't like the mountain was a significant place for me either. In fact, when I realized that I had just spent about a week on a mountain for no real reason, I couldn't help but feel annoyed at myself for being so aimless.

It was at that moment that I decided to climb back down the mountain. I didn't know what I would do once I got down, but I knew for sure that I would leave my hometown immediately. I didn't know where I would go or why, which made me disappointed in myself, but I knew that whatever my life's purpose was, I wouldn't find it where I could still feel my father's weak presence.

But as I was walking down, I saw something. A large boar goat was standing a large distance away from me, on a steeper section of the rocky mountainside below where I was. It was big enough that it could be a threat if it decided to charge me, but as it stared lazily at me with its rectangular eyes, it let out a disgruntled snort of warning before returning its attention to grazing on the shrubbery that it stood beside. Once I realized that it meant me no harm, I was about to dismiss it as readily as it did me, when I noticed something out of the corner of my eye.

I don't know how I spotted it, maybe it was just instinct or chance, but the snow leopard that pressed its body to the cliffside above me was perfectly camouflaged against the grey of the rocks and snow that surrounded it. I unwittingly locked eyes with it, and though its eyes narrowed and its lips curled into a snarl, it made no move against me, returning its attention to the boar goat that it was stalking.

I stayed still, partially to lower the risk of me provoking it, and partially so I wouldn't accidentally draw the boar goat's attention again and risk the snow leopard's detection.

Thankfully, neither of those things happened, and the snow leopard eventually broke its gaze with me, returning its attention to the boar goat.

I don't know how long it waited, or what triggered it to pounce when it did, but it happened in an instant, launching from its hiding spot and racing down the mountainside at a breakneck speed. The boar goat managed to react quicker that I would have, but it stumbled as it tried to run down the steep mountain face, almost falling before regaining its footing. It was a mistake that took less than a second to recover from, but it was enough to spell out its death. The snow leopard jaws clamped around the boar goat's neck, and in an instant it was dead.

The snow leopard wasted no time in consuming its kill, and it glared at me as it did, as if warning me away with its glare. I ignored its silent warning, but while it was visibly annoyed by my presence, it didn't seem to think that it was worth the effort to try to chase me away. I watched in fascination as it ate, and when it left, I followed.

In this world, there were great beasts that lived in the mortal realm that coasted on the outer edges of divinity. The badger mole, the dragon, the sky bison, the ocean and water spirits that took the form of koi. These were the great beasts that had taught the original benders their arts. It was no exaggeration to suggest that they had been the most influential mortal beings to shape humanity as a whole.

I wasn't under any delusion that this snow leopard was anything like the great beasts. It had intelligence and instinct, but it was not wise. It had no ability to bend and shape the elements like the great beasts could, but then again, neither did I.

I followed it on a whim, not knowing what I was expecting to achieve, even if I was certain that I was doing it for some purpose that was still unknown to me. The beast didn't appreciate my presence, but it didn't chase me off. I watched as it stalked through the mountains, every single movement it made being graceful and deliberate, despite the fact that it wasn't actively hunting. I felt myself trying to mirror the way it walked, even if I didn't understand how or why.

Whether it was deliberately trying to lose me, or it simply felt like going that way, it led me through a more treacherous hike than I was used to. Rocks fell away underneath my footfalls, forcing me to scrabble for purchase more than once, scraping and bruising my skin every time I fell, but the snow leopard held no regard for my slower pace. It continued onwards, only sparing me an occasional glance to make sure that I was not actively attacking it, though I don't know if I imagined the amused glint in its eyes whenever I fell.

Through a combination of the darkening sky, and the growing distance between us, I eventually lost sight of it. I went hungry that night, not having enough time to hunt for food, while searching for a place to sleep without freezing to death.

The next morning, I set a trap to secure a source of meat for my breakfast, and though I caught a medium-sized rabbit almost immediately, a hot wave of embarrassment ran through me for some reason. I did cook and eat the rabbit, but as the memory of the snow leopard's hunt ran through my mind, I resolved to not use a trap to hunt for meat again.

My first attempt at hunting a small boar goat went miserably. I tried to emulate the snow leopard's tactics, but its physiology was suited for racing down the mountainside while mine wasn't. The boar goat barely registered me as a threat, but managed to run away from me before I reached it, not that I was sure I could even kill it if I managed to catch it at that point. Rather than pouncing at my prey like my unwilling teacher had, it would've more apt to describe my hunting style as "falling" or "suicide".

Grateful that I didn't accidentally break my neck on my first attempt at hunting, I ate only berries and grasses that day.

My next attempts weren't successful either. Though I slowly managed to learn how to run down the mountain without killing myself, it was too slow to catch anything, even slower than my first attempts, and after a week of trying and failing to catch anything with my hands, I was really starting to miss the taste of meat.

My salvation came once I found another snow leopard to observe.

I had no idea of knowing whether it was the same one that I had seen earlier, but whether it was or not, it had the same majesty as the one from before. When I watched the snow leopard stalking its prey, I felt a petty sense of jealousy run through me at its natural gifts, of its camouflage, its sharp teeth, and its large paws that let it so effortlessly run down the mountainside.

But as I watched the snow leopard again, glaring angrily with a belly full of nothing but a rabbit's diet, my eyes widened as I noticed the intent behind the snow leopard's eyes.

While I could see the hungry glare behind its eyes, its focus barely hovered over its prey, but roamed over the entirety of the mountainside. At first, I assumed that it was just scanning the area for threats before it dedicated itself to the hunt, but I quickly realized that it was scanning the mountainside itself.

I watched as its gaze focused on seemingly random points in the mountain, but before I could figure out why, the beast launched itself into the hunt.

My eyes widened further when I realized what the snow leopard was doing. While at a glance, it seemed like it was just relying on its natural agility and physiology to run down the mountain, its movements had mirrored the way that it's eyes were moving a moment before.

I didn't fully grasp why it was moving as it did, until it finished hunting and eating its prey. Once it left the area, sparing me an annoyed side-glance as it did, I climbed up to the spot that it had been stalking its prey from. With the movements of the snow leopard fresh in my mind, I ran down the mountainside, matching my memory as best as I could.

My body realized what was going on before my mind did. While I wasn't quite as fast as the snow leopard was, unable to replicate its movements with the differences in our body, I started to realize that the path that the snow leopard had taken was incredibly deliberate, taking a secure path down the mountain that would give it ample purchase to run at full speed without risk of falling, while leading its prey into a more unsteady path.

My celebration at my realization was cut short when I let out a whoop of excitement and forgot to account for the fact that I still needed to slow down eventually. Taking the exact path that the snow leopard did, unfortunately led to me tripping over the carrion of its kill and tumbling down the mountain, but I was too excited to care.

For several more days, I spent my efforts in hunting more boar goats, trying to utilize the same techniques that the snow leopards did, and eventually succeeded in taking one down, driving my hunting knife deep into its neck. It was the most delicious meal that I'd ever had in my life, and once I was done, I skinned the boar and fashioned a rudimentary pelt out of it. It smelt awful and I didn't manage to get the entirety of the gore off of it before I threw it over my shoulders, but I was too giddy to care.

I'm not sure how much longer I stayed on that mountain before I was reminded that an entire society of people lived at the bottom of it.

When I saw a group of people travelling up the mountain, I didn't know what to think. My first instinct was to assume that my father had sent a troupe of hunters to bring me back to him, and after remembering him for the first time in a while, my first instinct was to feel anger, but I quickly shook it off. These hunters seemed equipped for beasts, not people. It was unlikely they were here for me.

I watched them from afar for a couple of hours, stalking them out of curiosity for a while, before I decided that I was curious enough to try and talk to them.

I stood from my hiding spot above them and let them notice me before I waved at them.

The surprise on their faces was obvious, even from so far away, but after a moment of initial shock, they waved back at me.

Taking that as a sign of friendliness, I made my way towards them.

"Hello," I said, grateful that my lack of speech in the recent months or years hadn't taken my sense of language away completely. "I don't usually see any other people on the mountains. What brings you around these parts?"

"Hello, child," the leader of the group said. He seemed a little confused to be having a conversation with someone like me, but not enough to be impolite. "We're in the area because we're hunting for some game. It's a dangerous place up here. Do you live here?"

I nodded. "I do."

"Alone?"

"Yes," I said, pausing when I realized that he was concerned for my sake. "I like it that way too. I was just curious about what you were doing here."

The leader frowned, but seemed to accept what I was saying.

"I was going to offer you safe passage down the mountain once we were done here, but I suppose you've turned that offer down before I could even make it," he says. "I hope your curiosity is satisfied, but I'll be honest, it doesn't sit right leaving a kid like you alone here. How old are you anyways?"

"Either thirteen or fourteen, depending on how long I've been up here," I admitted. "Thanks for the offer, but I'm really fine."

"If you insist," the leader said, though the expression he wore clearly didn't agree with what he was saying. He stared at me for a while, but when he saw no way to sway me, he sighed.

"At least let me give you a bit of clothes," he said. "That pelt you're wearing is filthy."

"I won't take charity," I said. "Besides, I happen to like this pelt. Skinned it off my first hunt."

"I can only assume you skinned it with a particularly sharp rock," he said, shaking his head.

I shrugged. With how dull my only knife was at this point, he was close enough to the truth.

"What if I paid you?" he asked.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"It wouldn't be charity if you worked for it, right?" he asked. "You must be familiar with these mountains if you live here, and quite frankly, we're more used to hunting in a forest environment. It would be helpful to have a guide."

I considered the offer for a moment.

"I'll work for sweets or pastries if you have any," I said. "I can get by with what I have here, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't miss having a snack every now and then."

For the first time since we started talking, the leader smiled.

"Sure thing," he said. "Lang Fen back there always has some sort of snacks on him. Hunting expeditions are the only time his wife won't nag him about his eating habits."

There was a weak protest from one of the men, presumably Li Fang, and a chorus of quiet laughter from the rest of the troupe. I smiled along with them. It was a nice atmosphere.

"So what sort of things would you have me do?" I asked. "I'm familiar enough with the mountains that I have a decent idea of where I'd look for most animals, but I mostly hunt for boar goats."

"Boar goats, huh?" the leader said, raising an eyebrow before he glanced at the pelt that hung over my shoulders realizing what he had criticized just a moment ago. "That's impressive. Those things are notoriously hard to catch."

I grinned at the praise, giving him a shrug. "I've had a lot of practise," I said. "I could probably catch a couple for you if that's what you're looking for."

Though the leader considered the offer, he shook his head.

"While there's always demand for boar goat, I think we'd rather not lose sight of our original goal," he said. "We're hunting for snow leopards. Some nobleman wants a set of furs, even though they went out of fashion a while ago. Good money for us, though."

"Ah," I said.

I didn't know exactly how to react to the reveal. While I wasn't exactly happy about the idea of hunting down the creatures that I had learned so much from, I supposed I didn't have any sort of emotional attachment to them either. And as far as I could tell, these men were just trying to make an honest living. But it didn't help their case that they were hunting on behalf of a nobleman.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I don't think I can guide you to any snow leopards."

"Oh," the man said. "Well, that's reasonable. Would you still be willing to guide us across the mountains? I assume you would know how to navigate them, even if you don't know of any specific snow leopard resting spots."

I shook my head.

"No, I think you misunderstand," I said. "I know where the snow leopards live. I just refuse to guide you to them. In fact, I forbid it."

When the atmosphere immediately turned hostile, I sighed. It had been a nice conversation too.

"And what exactly do you mean by that, kid?" the leader asked.

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

"It means that if you want to hunt here, you'll have to get through me first," I said, hoping the message was clear enough.

"And what exactly gives you the power to decide that?" the leader asked. "There's no law against hunting snow leopards, and this isn't private property."

I shrugged, wondering if I was making a grave mistake. None of the hunters looked like they were fighters, but every single one of them had a bow and a knife on them, and they outnumbered me five to one. I'd never been in a fight before, so I wasn't sure why I was so confident in my declaration, but I refused to back down now that I'd made it.

"I like snow leopards," I said simply. "And I guess I owe them enough that I don't want you killing any, especially not for a nobleman."

"You got something against noblemen, then?" the leader asked.

I shrugged. "I guess," I said. "So what's it gonna be?"

The leader frowned, and I could feel the tension that hung in the air over my threat.

"You're making a stupid choice, kid," he said. "You do realize that, don't you?"

I nodded. "Yeah," I said. "But it's my choice to make."

The leader sighed and turned around. For some reason, I felt a tinge of disappointment at his decision, even though I knew it was probably better for me.

"Not gonna fight?" I asked.

"I don't want to fight a child," he said. "And I'm not willing to risk my men getting injured over a petty scuffle."

"That's fair," I said, even if I didn't quite agree.

The leader didn't say another word, and neither did his men, even if they shot me dirty looks, grumbling under their breaths about having wasted their time.

It was only after they left my sight completely that I started to follow them, stalking them down the mountain until I was sure that they wouldn't simply double back once they thought I wasn't watching. To my surprise, the hunters stuck to their word, making a straight path down the mountainside without noticing my presence.

The disappointment still hung over me, along with my confusion. I still didn't understand why I had threatened the men on behalf of beasts that didn't care for me, but for some reason, I felt like I had been on the cusp of a discovery, similar to when I had hunted down my first boar goat. But it evaded me.

Frustrated, I made my way back up the mountain, trying unsuccessfully to forget the temporary break in my hermitic lifestyle.

It took a week for another break in my hermitic lifestyle to happen, when I discovered a small group of Fire Nation soldiers trudging up the mountainside. They were lightly armored, which might have made them vulnerable to the cold if not for the two firebenders in their group, keeping a steady flame alive in their hands as they walked, distributing its heat to their fellows.

For some reason that I couldn't explain, the sight excited me. I stalked them for a short while before it became obvious that, like the group of hunters that came before them, they were searching for something.

With my heartbeat pounding in my ears, I stood up, but unlike what I did with the hunters, I didn't approach them.

"Hello," I called out, smiling down at the five soldiers. "It seems like these mountains have been rather popular recently. Anything happening around here that I should know about?"

Immediately, the soldiers shifted into fighting stances at the sound of my voice. I lowered my self to the ground in anticipation of an attack, but before they did anything, one of the firebenders held up a fist.

"We've received reports of a young child causing disruptions to hunting activities in the area," he shouted. "I assume that you are the child in question?"

"What would you do if I said I was?" I asked.

Even from this far away, I could see the firebender's eyebrows furrowing.

"You would be arrested and charged with the crime of disrupting the local economy, and will be brought into questioning to determine if you are intentionally attempting to manipulate the furs market. If you are found guilty of this, you will be given a hefty fine and potentially jail time. Any collaborators you have will also suffer the same fate," he said.

"I don't have any collaborators," I said. "But that does sound suspiciously like me."

"Is that an admission of guilt?" the firebender asked.

I still didn't understand why I was so insistent on goading them into a fight, but it somehow felt like the right thing to do. I rolled my eyes, hoping that the firebender could see the action as clearly as I could see his frown.

"Do you really have to ask?" I said, motioning for them to approach me. "Just come on."

Maybe it was the casual way that I said it, but the group seemed to be confused by the clear invitation.

"You're coming with us willingly?" the firebender asked.

I groaned and picked up a small rock beside me, and hurled it at the group. They all flinched back, ducking their heads slightly, even if it wasn't any close to hitting them.

"Obviously not," I said. "If you want to arrest me, you'll have to take me down first."

When the group still didn't move, I picked up a bigger rock and threw it at them with the intent to actually try to hit them with it. Surprisingly, I managed to hit one of the firebenders' legs, and he curled up, howling in pain before he lost his footing and stumbled down the mountain, shrieking the entire way down. A surge of disappointment ran through me at the sight, but before I could say anything, I let out a yelp when a pillar of flame shot towards my face.

Though I was able to dodge it in time, it got close enough to me that it might've singed my eyebrows off if the firebender hadn't been so far away, making his flame weaker by the time it got to me.

When I peeked my head back up, I saw the firebender glaring up at me.

"What are you idiots doing?" he yelled. "Get him!"

The soldiers started to move, and I felt myself smiling at the sight.

"Finally," I said.

As the soldiers stumbled up the rocky mountainside, I watched them for a moment before turned around and started to run, climbing up the mountain at a pace that was just slow enough that it would make them think they could still catch me. It seemed to work, as the soldiers groaned, but didn't slow down in their pace.

Once I was able to get them to a position I wanted, I turned around and sprinted down the mountainside.

Before calling out to them, I had spent a decent time stalking them, observing them to a point where I had made a plan to deal with them. Out of the five soldiers, I knew two of them were firebenders already, but one thing that I'd noticed was that only two of the other soldiers were armed with a bo staff and a bow respectively, with the other three carrying no visible weaponry on them. Two of the unarmed soldiers showed that they could defend themselves with their bending, why wouldn't I assume the same of the last one?

I ran to the right of the group, making sure to position the bo staff wielding soldier in the path of the two benders that both aimed their palms towards me, before realizing that their fellow would be caught in the blast. Bo Staff attempted a charge towards me, but couldn't even get close to me before I ran past him, sprinting down towards the archer, who lagged behind the group to provide cover support.

Unfortunately for him, that also meant that nobody was close enough to defend him from my charge. To his credit, he did try to fire an arrow at me, but due to the combination of surprise at my sudden charge and his uneven footing, the arrow that he loosed went flying too far away from me to even be concerned about.

I wasn't exactly trained in any form of martial art aside from the uncoordinated flailing that my father had taught me, so the only thing I could think to do was to grab the archer's face and push it as violently as I could. Thankfully, my lack of technique didn't seem to matter, and I was able to practically throw him down the mountain.

I ignored the way that he screamed in pain as he bounced off the rocks, darting to the side to avoid a blast of fire that hit the ground a few feet away from where I stood. I ran towards Bo Staff hoping to use him as cover, but he tried to back off, seeming to realize that he was only in the way. I saw him shuffling over on the cliff, trying to swap places with the firebender that had just shot a gout of flame at me, but I quickly bent down to pick up another rock.

Even though I was confident enough in my footing to know that I wouldn't be as inhibited by the terrain as the archer as been, I wasn't as confident in my aim. The rock I had thrown earlier to incapacitate one of the firebenders had been a total fluke, and it hadn't given me enough false confidence to try and hit the firebender that was approaching me now, but thankfully, I had a much bigger target to aim for. Just as the firebender and Bo Staff were crossing each other's paths, I took aim and hurled the rock upwards as hard as I could, hitting a nearly dead shrub that clung desperately to the cliff face above them.

The impact of the rock was enough to shake the shrub loose, and though it wasn't big enough to cause any damage on its own, the spray of dead foliage and loose rocks that shook out of it was enough to confuse the firebender and Bo Staff, right as they crossed paths, making them bump into each other during their moment of temporary blindness, giving me enough time to run over and kick Bo Staff in the back, pushing him down the cliff alongside the firebender.

I leapt backwards, anticipating a blast of fire from the last soldier, the firebender that I had been talking to, but when none came from him, I frowned.

I looked up at him, as he stared down at me higher up on the mountainside. His eyebrows were furrowed in anger, and I could see an orange glow shining out from between his fingers, of the burning flame he clenched in his fists, but he didn't seem to have any intentions of releasing it.

I couldn't help but feel annoyed at the fact that he was looking down at me, but I didn't move from my spot.

"You gonna fight, or what?" I asked.

"This is hardly a fight," he said. "It's a mockery of what a proper fight should be."

"That just sounds like the words of a sore loser," I said, even if I couldn't help but grimace at his words. "Are you upset that I beat up your friends so quickly?"

"You fight like an airbender," he said, spitting the last word out like a slur. "Hopping around like a damn monkey. Are you a mindless animal or are you a man?"

Though the comment didn't hurt me as much as he might have assumed, the sense of superiority that dripped from his every word was admittedly enough to annoy me.

"What do you consider a proper fight to be, then?" I asked. "If ganging up five to one against a kid half your age is acceptable, I'd love to hear your definition of it."

The firebender grimaced, but quickly recovered into a sneer.

"A criminal does not deserve an honourable duel," he said. "But if an honourable duel is what you want, then I will show you one."

It was at that point that I realized that the firebender was a nobleman. The smarmy, overconfident attitude was a familiar one, and I knew for a fact that he truly believed in the bullshit that he spouted. When he turned around to march up the cliff, exposing his back to me, I knew that he only did it because he thought himself invincible, like there was no possible way that I would dare to attack him.

I was almost tempted to do it, to see his confused expression as I pushed him down the mountain, but I held myself back. I didn't want to risk him walking away from this with any semblance of self confidence left in his arrogant body. If I defeated him my way, there was a possibility that he would explain it away as me having cheated somehow, or that I had been scared to fight him in what he considered to be an honourable duel.

So I followed him.

I could only assume that the firebender was searching for some place that was flat enough that it wouldn't give me the advantage. I knew it was a futile attempt, knowing the mountains well enough to know there was nothing like a formal dojo here, but he eventually got frustrated and after ten minutes of walking, he just stopped and decided that this was somehow different from the rest of the mountain that we'd just walked past, even though I knew there was no difference.

"Agni Kai," the firebender said, signalling for me to stop in my place as he walked away. "Have you heard of it?"

I shrugged. "It's a firebending duel," I said. "First to get burned loses. Don't see how that applies here, seeing as I can't firebend."

"Oh, is that so?" he asked, feigning surprise. "Isn't that a shame."

Without warning, a great gout of flame erupted in my direction. I let out a loud laugh.

"So damn predictable!" I shouted as I darted up the mountain. "You noblemen always hiding behind tradition and honour, while you mold the definition to suit your needs. You don't have a drop of honour in that body of yours."

"Shut up!" the firebender shouted back, pausing to ready up his fists before sending another pillar of flame at me. "Don't pretend to know what honour is, you damn savage."

I laughed at his poor deflection, as I sat behind a large rock. I drew my limbs inwards to protect them from the flames that licked around the edges of my shelter.

"You're hilarious, you know that?" I asked. "An absolute riot, so blind to your own hypocrisy that you wouldn't recognize it if it slapped you in the face. Don't worry though. I'll slap you in the face as much times as needed until you get it."

The firebender screamed at me, and I waited until he was done before I launched myself over the rock, ignoring the way that the hot stone burned the bottoms of my feet. Maybe if this was a proper arena, he would've had enough space to recover and send another blast of fire towards me, but the mountain plateau was much smaller than a traditional dojo. As it was, I found myself standing right in front of him, before he could even draw in his next breath.

"Hey," I said, before I punched him in the stomach.

I had never actually punched anyone before, and he was able to scramble backwards after the hit, making enough distance to try and gather up another flame to send my way, but I didn't feel the need to stop him.

I smiled as he shot a pitiful flame in my direction, barely an ember.

"You know, it might be my own rotten nobleman's blood at work there, but I really shouldn't have been so overconfident that that would work, huh?" I asked. "If you could still bend, I would've probably died."

"Wha-" the firebender wheezed, barely able to squeeze out his words. "What did you do to my bending?"

"Nothing fancy," I said. "I just noticed a little something. Every time you firebenders breath, you shoot your attacks out at a very specific rhythm. My father had me learn the stances, even if I wasn't actually a bender, and it always struck me as weird that no matter how big or small the move was, there was always an equally long pause between each move."

When the firebender pushed his fist towards me, panic flooding his eyes, I sighed. I walked over to him, drew my hand back and slapped him in the face as hard as I could.

"Listen when people talk to you," I said. "You could learn something new."

The firebender held his face in shock, staring at me like I had just done something impossible.

I sighed and slapped him again.

"As I was saying, I just thought it was a silly little thing that my father forced upon me. It was ridiculous. A little jab to the head shouldn't take as long as a sweeping roundhouse kick. My father was wrong about a lot of things, and I had always assumed that his little firebending dances was just one of those many examples. But when I saw you and your little friends, I realized that there was a reason for those uniform pauses. It's because a big part of firebending is breath control."

I slapped him again.

"I didn't take away your ability to firebend, idiot," I said. "I just knocked the wind out of you."

When the firebender didn't react, still looking down at his hands in utter shock, as if he couldn't comprehend what I had just told him. I considered kicking him down the mountainside, but I didn't feel like he was worth the effort.

"Now get out of my sight. Tell your superiors to send stronger soldiers if they want to hunt in these mountains again."

I slapped him again for good measure.

Though he flinched at the impact, he didn't get up off the floor. I scoffed in disdain and left him myself, wandering back up the mountain in search of a boar goat to make into my next meal.

When a week passed and no stronger soldiers came by, I thought that maybe I had come on a little too strong. Just like how I'd slowed down for the soldiers to entice them into chasing me, I shouldn't have crushed the nobleman firebender's spirit so harshly. Maybe I should've let him get his licks in before kicking him down the mountain, and he might've ushered on some more soldiers to get revenge on his behalf.

Oh well, it wasn't like I really cared all too much.

One morning, I woke up and the quote that had originally spurred me to make my journey up this mountain echoed in my head.

"We are not defined by the mountains we face in life, but what we choose to do once we come across them."

I looked up the mountain, and chose to climb it.

It took me a few days to reach the peak of the tallest mountain in the range, and when I did, I looked down upon the clouds and I knew that this was where I belonged.

I don't know how long I stayed there for, simply staring off into the distance, when a low growl broke me out of my reverie.

I turned around to see a snow leopard glaring at me, peeking her head out of a small rocky den that I had barely noticed on my way up. Though I couldn't see her cubs, I could hear their quiet mewling echoing quietly behind her. Though the mother leopard had death in her eyes, I could only laugh loudly at the sight.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I didn't mean to intrude."

The beast, having no knowledge of language, obviously had no way to interpret what I was saying, and even though I wasn't trying to threaten her, I doubted that she would perceive me as anything but a threat with her cubs behind her.

I smiled at her.

"You know, I met a snow leopard just like you, not too long ago. Maybe you're even the very same snow leopard, but that's pretty unlikely, in my opinion. She taught me everything she knew, even though I doubt that she meant to. It wasn't much, but it did eventually lead me to realize where I belong in life. At the peak. Metaphorically, of course."

The snow leopard growled at me again in warning, but I didn't move, too caught up in my moment of self reflection to care.

"I'm strong," I said. "And I want to keep getting stronger. This peak might be enough for you, but I want to go higher. I want to climb higher than no mortal has gone before."

She yowled at me, and I laughed before finally standing up.

"You really don't care about what I have to say, huh?" I asked. "Such a cruel beast. Here I am, pouring my heart out to you and you won't even listen. Oh well. Just so you know, I told the humans downstairs that these mountains are off limits, but it was mostly out of selfish reasons so don't bother thanking me. I can only assume that they'll forget about me in a couple of months, but I won't be sticking around to remind them. All I'm saying is to stay safe, okay?"

The snow leopard let out a low grumble as I made my intent to leave clear, making me laugh.

"I probably won't see you ever again, and I doubt you'll remember my name, but I do like you, so let me give you the honour of being the first to hear my legend."

Turning around, I shouted out into the air.

"Hear my name! The strongest man to live amongst men. I am Ty Lung!"

The snow leopard yowled angrily at the loud noise, and I was about to laugh before I heard a quiet chorus of mewls erupting from deeper within the cave that she was guarding.

"Ah shit, sorry," I said. "Didn't mean to wake the little ones."

She grumbled angrily in response.

"Yeah," I said, with a chuckle. "That's fair."