Noatak moved like a shadow between the huts, his breath fogging in the chill air. His knuckles were still white from the confrontation with his father, the echoes of his own bloodbending still buzzing under his skin like an electric current.

He stopped at the familiar entrance, a modest dwelling carved into the ice, the hide covering the doorway glowing faintly with the warmth of a fire within. He didn't knock. He simply pushed the flap aside and stepped inside, the determined gaze in his dark eyes fixed forward.